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messers-moony · 3 years

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Secret Boyfriend | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Lupin!Fem!Reader

Summary: Keeping secrets seem to run in the Lupin family but one of the two twins has a bigger secret than the other can imagine.

Pitter-patter could be heard inside the Gryffindor Common room. The Scotland weather never really seemed to make up its mind during the period between winter and spring. Nevertheless, it brought a calming atmosphere to the red and gold common room. The five Marauders sat in front of the fireplace, speaking to one another. Remus, Y/n, and Sirius sitting together on a couch. James on an armchair, and Peter sitting on the ground in front of the sofa.

“So, Little Lupin.“ James drawled, “When are you getting a boyfriend?”

Remus chuckled, quickly putting an arm around his twin sister, “Hopefully, never.”

“Maybe I already have a boyfriend, and you lot just don’t know.” Y/n snipped as she elbowed her brother in the ribs slightly, “Oh, come on, paws!” James exclaimed teasingly.

Paws was Y/n’s Marauder name. Her animagus was a Siamese cat, which resembled her personality quite well if you asked Remus. Y/n was quick-witted, independent, intuitive, curious, and affectionate when comfortable. She and Sirius were known to flirt all the time but recently - meaning a couple of months - they hadn’t done it at all. Perhaps Y/n was actually avoiding his flirtatious remarks. Nevertheless, Y/n’s animagus was a direct correlation with her personality.

“Yeah, paws, you’ve been neglecting me recently. I’m not too happy with it either.” Sirius added with a fake pout, “Oh hush it, you two. Leave my sister alone. She’s got no hidden boyfriend.” Remus defended, looking at his sister.

“Right, Y/n?” Remus coughed, and she jumped out of her daydream, “Mhm! Of course.”

Conversation went on as usual. They began discussing new pranks, but Y/n’s jumper pocket felt heavier than usual, knowing what’s inside. It was a cream-colored envelope with the Black family crest as a seal. Y/n knew more than anyone that Sirius wouldn’t be happy to see the familiar logo, but this wasn’t from his parents. It was from his little brother, and Y/n was anxious to give it to him. So when James, Remus, and Peter went upstairs, Y/n pulled him aside before he could leave.

“Padfoot, wait.” Y/n called, and he turned back, “What's up, paws?” Sirius queried, turning to face her.

She sighed and pulled the envelope from her pocket, “Please, read this. It isn’t what you think it is despite the seal.” Y/n stated, handing him the parchment.

“Where did you get this?” Sirius asked as he opened the packaging, “Regulus.” Y/n’s answer was firmer than expected.

Nonetheless, the letter inside seemed essential to his fellow Marauder, so he opened it. Inside he was met with his little brother's prominent handwriting. The black ink treaded so seamlessly across the brown paper. Y/n remembered watching him write it at his desk, desperately trying to collect his thoughts while his hand shook relentlessly. She couldn’t do anything but sit from his bed and watch. Regulus needed to do this alone.

After reading, Sirius slid the letter back inside its packaging, “Well, it’s his fault.”

“Actually, it isn’t.” Y/n quipped, “Listen, Sirius, Regulus is trying. He really is.”

“You would know this how?”

“Because we’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Oh really?” Sirius questioned sarcastically, crossing his arms, “Since when did you and Reggie become so close?”

“He began tutoring me in third year for Potions.” Y/n answered, “You couldn’t have asked Remus?”

“No. “ Y/n shook her head, “Slughorn wanted Regulus specifically.”

“Well then. Full moon tomorrow, hope you’re prepared.” Sirius chirped as he began walking up the steps to his dorm, “I’m always prepared.” Y/n replied to essentially no one.

She sighed. It was apparent Sirius didn’t want to believe what Regulus had written. It would’ve been hard on anyone. But Regulus wanted it to come from him instead of Sirius finding out. Since Y/n’s third year - Regulus’ second year - she felt attracted to him. He always made time for her. It wasn’t until their fourth year when she realized it. In her fifth year, they made it official. Regulus Black and Y/n Lupin were a couple but hidden beneath an invisibility cloak.

Seventh year wasn’t easy. The upcoming war, her brother's lycanthropy, N.E.W.T.S, and Regulus getting the dark mark. Nothing seemed to be working in her favor. Books didn’t even seem to please her anymore. Her eyes wandered while she began to daydream about anything rather than reality itself. People began to notice how lost the girl appeared.

Especially her brother.

Study sessions with her weren’t the same. Some days her eyes would appear glossier than usual as if someone put a coating of lip gloss over them. Maybe they were rimmed with a pastel pink seeming tired and unhappy. The tremors in her hands were hard to ignore as she wrote with her quill. If there’s one thing Remus Lupin was good at, it was being observant; however, there wasn’t time, and he didn’t have the patience to deal with this right now. The full moon approaching meant that Remus’ patience tolerance was down to about none.

There was one thing that brought her clarity. Regulus Black. The Gryffindor common room was always a warm and welcoming atmosphere. In contrast, the Slytherin common room was cold and damp, but it brought her comfort because of the person inside. Y/n padded quietly inside of his prefect hallway, which was beside the Slytherin common. She walked into his bedroom, which was dark.

No candles lit. Just dark. Regulus always felt comfort in the dark, but it wasn’t dark because of that. It was dark because he was absent. Y/n peered over to his desk, where letters sat from his mother and some cousins. Andromeda seemed to try and reach him, but the letter looked unopened. There was one that caught her eye. It was Remus’ handwriting, and it was from him. It was also opened. Y/n knew she couldn’t stay all night. The full moon was due to rise in just two hours.

Picking up the parchment, she began to read:

“ To Regulus Black,

You need to step up. I get it. Sirius has been disowned, but he tries to make an effort. Can’t you see that? Sirius really needs you, and I know that you miss him too. This whole stubborn game of not wanting to talk to each other has gone on long enough.

I know what it’s like to argue with a sibling, and it isn’t pleasant. Suck it up, swallow your pride and talk to Sirius. You don’t have to ultimately make up, but please, he’s trying.

From, Remus Lupin. “

Y/n swallowed down her anger. Who was Remus to get involved in their affairs? If Sirius and Regulus didn’t want to interact, that was their problem, not his. It infuriated her. But she didn’t have time to babble around. Y/n pointed her wand at her and became a cat. Perks of her animagus being allowed at Hogwarts, she could roam around freely without suspicion. Quickly she sprinted down to the Whomping Willow, where she was met with her three Marauders in human form. Y/n transformed back.

“Where were you! I was worried sick!” Remus scolded, “Nowhere, but we need to talk later.” Y/n answered.

They got Remus in the shack and changed into their animagus forms. A stag, a rat, a dog, and a cat. The dog and the cat had the most interaction with the werewolf. Sometimes the dog and werewolf would cuddle up beside each other, whereas the cat would sleep on its own along with the other two animals. The following day Y/n and Sirius lugged Remus up to the hospital wing. Y/n sat beside him the entire time while the other three went off. Sirius and James were off to Quidditch practice. Peter was off to see his girlfriend in Hufflepuff.

Y/n tapped aimlessly on Remus’ hand, “M- Morning.”

“Morning, Moony.” Y/n greeted, “How are you feeling?”

“Phenomenal.”

“Sorry.”

“What did we need to talk about?” Remus questioned, and Y/n tilted her head, “You said we needed to talk before going to the shack.”

“Yes, I did. Um- uh- did you send Regulus a letter by any chance?” Y/n stammered, “I did. Why?”

“I saw it.” Y/n replied shortly, “You saw it?” Remus repeated incredulously.

She nodded, “How did you see it?”

“Regulus and I are friends. Sometimes we hang out in his dorm.” The words seemed like nothing as they rolled off her tongue, “You hang out in the Slytherin dorms? Is that why you always know the password so we can do pranks?”

“Of course.” Y/n chuckled, “I use my privilege to its advantage.”

Remus began to get up but grimaced, causing Y/n to jump up to help him. Gently she eased him to a sitting position. A new scratch on his cheek and multiple on his arms. It’s evident that the cat and the dog had to stop him. The thin scratches on his arms were a cat's nails. The thicker scratch on his cheek was a dog's nails. Remus looked down at his arms.

“I’m sorry.” Y/n muttered, “Not your fault, paws. Who was it this time?” Remus asked.

“Prongs. Apparently, you wanted Prongs.” Y/n answered, and he kissed the top of her head, “Thank you for stopping me.”

“Anything for my brother.”

“Just like anything for our Moony?”

Y/n laughed, “Yeah.”

Paws began to tap on his hand again, until a voice echoed through the hospital wing, “Y/n?”

“Y/n?” The voice called again, and Remus quirked his eyebrow at his sheepish sister, “Y/n!”

Suddenly a black-haired, grey-eyed, pale figure was beside her. He didn’t realize what he was doing until he had already kissed the top of her head worriedly. Y/n turned pink at the affection and the embarrassment of it happening in front of her brother. Remus coughed, and the male stood straight.

“Regulus, what a surprise.” Remus retorted, “Didn’t think you’d ever visit me in the infirmary.”

“Remus, please-“

“I wouldn’t.” Regulus snapped, “Then why are you here?” Remus inquired.

Regulus’ hand was playing aimlessly with the ends of Y/n’s hair, “Moony….” Y/n began at a whisper, “Regulus is my boyfriend.”

“This-“ Remus pointed at them both with a laughing smile, “Is funny.”

“Nice prank, paws, but it isn’t going to work.”

Y/n sighed, “It isn’t a prank, Rem.”

“We’ve been together for about two years now.” She confessed, and Regulus stiffened, “Friends, my ass.” Remus scoffed bitterly.

“Remus, please-“ Y/n began, “No, please just leave. We can talk about this later when I’m in the right frame of mind. Because if you don’t leave, now I might throw a punch.” Remus replied.

She sighed and reluctantly left with Regulus trailing behind her. Y/n didn’t want to cry. It was pitiful. Regulus never had a good relationship with Sirius since Hogwarts, yet he didn’t seem to care. Thankfully, after building the Marauders Map, she knew every little crevice and hiding spot. Pulling back a tapestry, she sat down on the cement floor. Regulus doing the same beside her. Hesitantly he pulled his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest.

“This is pitiful.” Y/n chuckled bitterly, “I’m sorry, Reggie.”

“It isn’t pitiful. You and Remus have a close relationship. It’s okay to be sad about him telling you off.” Regulus replied, placing his chin on the top of her head, “Sirius and I are different. Don’t compare you and Remus with us.”

Y/n nuzzled into his chest, “I saw the letter Remus sent you.”

“I- I saw the way he spoke to you, and I’m sorry.” Y/n stated, “I hope he comes around.”

“I do too, love.” Regulus kissed the top of her head, “ I do too.”

It was quiet for a moment until two figures pulled back the tapestry, “Oi! Get off, little Lupin!” James exclaimed, and Y/n sighed, “Sirius, James, please just leave.”

“What are you doing with my mate's little sister, Regulus?” Sirius interrogated, “Comforting her. She needs me.” Regulus retorted, tightening his grip on her shoulder.

Y/n stood up and pulled Regulus with her, “Come on. We four need to talk.”

The four of them walked into a broom closet. It was a quiet walk. Eerily quiet. It brought shivers down Y/n’s spine at how silent the walk was. The tension was so thick you couldn’t cut it with a knife. The pressure felt like sludge. It was thick and mush. But when Y/n opened the door, the lot of them walked inside. James and Sirius stared expectantly.

“Regulus and I have been dating since my fifth year.” Y/n began, and Regulus intertwined their hands.

“Little Lupin!” Sirius exclaimed, “You weren’t lying when you said you had a secret boyfriend!”

“You scandalous little thing!”

“I can’t believe this.” James stated after running his hand through his hair, “How did Remus take it?”

“Not very well.” Y/n replied, “He kicked me out of the hospital wing when Regulus showed up. “

“He’s- He’s not in the right mindset, though. He’ll come to. I know he will. He has to.”

Sirius’ eyes softened, “Moony will come around. It might just take him a minute.”

“Regulus.” James called, and grey eyes stared at him, “Y/n is a Marauder.”

“I know that.” Regulus interrupted, “She is my little sister as much as she is Remus’” James continued.

“And mine!” Sirius added, smiling brightly, “Y/n is our little sister. The lot of us depend on her. We can’t, and we won’t have her heartbroken.” James explained sternly, suddenly looking a lot like Mrs. Potter.

Regulus’ cheeks flushed with pink, “I love her, I really do. I don’t plan on breaking her heart anytime soon.”

“You’re gonna be my sister-in-law!” Sirius squealed, hugging Y/n forcefully, almost knocking her over, “Oh, little Lupin.” He cooed.

“You’re all grown up!”

They laughed, and Sirius kissed her forehead, “Take care of him, will you?” He whispered so only she could hear, “Of course.” Y/n smiled.

“Alright, alright, I’d like my girlfriend back,” Regulus replied, taking her away from Sirius’ arms.

Sirius gulped, “How’s mum going to take this, Reggie?”

“I don’t care.” Regulus retorted, “Mums gonna have to deal with it.”

The smile on Sirius’ face was brighter than the sun, “Oh, Reggie!” He wailed, pulling Regulus into a tight hug.

The two brothers smiled as they hugged each other. Regulus sleeve slipped up, and James stepped back, pulling out his wand. The two Black brothers pulled apart, and that’s when Sirius saw it. The dark mark on his brother's sleeve. Y/n stiffened as Sirius lifted his sleeve up further to see it clearly.

“Reggie…”

“Sirius, please, I didn’t want it.” Regulus pleaded, “She- They- Please.”

James watched intently at them. Sirius’ eyes had filled with tears as he embraced his younger brother. For the first time in a long time, Regulus felt protected in his brother's arms. James walked closer and joined them. Hugging both Black brothers as close as he could. James Potter, the man who never stops giving. They pulled apart, and James took Reggie into his own arms.

“You need anything, you come to me, okay?” James informed sternly, and Regulus nodded, “Ye- Yeah.”

“Remus and Y/n always come for the holidays. You won’t be alone.” James stated smiling, “My parents already have one Black; they won’t mind another.”

The Black brother smiled, “Thank you….”

The days went on, and Regulus still avoided the Marauders altogether. Remus glared at him from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Deep emerald green eyes were flashing at the grey ones that sat at the Slytherin table. Until Y/n jabbed him in the ribs, taking his attention away from the younger Black brother.

“Remus.” Y/n scolded, “Stop it.”

“I think you’re too hard on him, Moony.” James began, “He loves your sister. Maybe talk to him.”

“No.” Remus snapped, “You guys can accept this, but I can’t.”

They didn’t push any further. Y/n and Remus had been distant from each other. It was weird to watch the twins who were typically attached at the hip to be so - abroad. Regulus didn’t like that he was now the cause of their fussing. After all, they were the reason Sirius and him were on speaking terms now. So Regulus and Sirius made a plan. It involved them being locked in a broom closet, and so it happened—one night after dinner.

Remus was shoved into a cupboard, not by his own liking either, “Come on, Sirius! This isn’t funny. I have prefect duties to do!”

“Actually, someone else has taken them over.” Regulus informed, and Remus whipped around, “What are you two doing here?”

“Remus, explain it to me.” Regulus began, “Why you don’t approve of me with your sister.”

“Because! You’re a bloody death eater! You probably forced her to be with you.” Remus exclaimed.

Y/n scoffed, “A pureblood forcing himself with a half-breed? Doesn’t seem likely.”

Remus ran his hand through his hair, “Okay, he’s still a death eater!”

“I was forced!” Regulus exclaimed, “They strapped me to a chair and embedded the mark into my forearm. You don’t think I wasn’t thinking of her the entire time?! I was scared out of my mind!”

“The entire time, all I could think about was ‘How is Y/n gonna take this.’” Regulus admitted, “My heart aches for her. I didn’t want her to be scared.”

Remus’ green eyes turned soft, “Does she accept you? Does she love you? Do you love her?”

“Yes, Remus. I love him for who he is. James offered him a place to stay at the Potters.” Y/n replied, “And yes, I love her.”

Tears filled her eyes, “Remus, please. I don’t want to lose either of you.”

Remus held out his arms, and she walked right into them. He placed one hand on the back of her head and one on the small of her waist. Holding her close to his heart, rubbing his thumb through her hair. Regulus’ grey eyes stared at the two siblings before him. Remus’ heart softened at his crying sister. He never wanted to hurt her, ever.

“Paws.” Remus began as he pulled away slightly, “Does he make you happy?”

Y/n sniffled and nodded; Remus wiped her cheeks, “Okay.”

“Does he know you, for you?”

“Mhm.”

Remus turned to Regulus as Y/n parted with him, “Where’s paws favorite place to be scratched?”

Regulus chuckled, “Behind her ears.”

“Take care of my little sister.” Remus pleaded, “Please, Regulus.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect any different.” Regulus answered.

Remus walked forward and put out his hand. Hesitantly Regulus shook his hand. Grey eyes met green ones. Remus couldn’t help the smile that placed itself on his face. Without hesitation, he pulled Regulus into a tight hug.

“Take care of my sister, and I’ll take care of you.”

“Always.”

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kainscape · 3 years

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Slashers with an S/O who talks in their sleep

@chibizombiebehindyou: Could you do the slashers (including Asa and Jesse) with a reader who talks in their sleep?

A/N: Decided to do this in a short prompt type of writing piece so I can practice writing short stories without going way overboard

A/N: okay maybe it’s not as short as I thought but hey, it’s not over 2 pages- yeah no it’s pretty lengthy 💀 and it’s not proofread ‼️

Bo Sinclair

It was a consuming and bone-breaking job that the Sinclair brothers did. Therefore, sleep was never guaranteed. But, with you? You decided on your own that you would keep yourself awake to see Bo come home in one piece. He always brushed your worry off as your so called obsession with him. After a few times of butchering your sleep schedule, it wasn't long before you were fast asleep when Bo retuned home. He made his way up the stairs, shedding his boots at the top. Discarding his mechanic coveralls, he was left in a stained but washed grey t shirt and his boxers. He had heard some quiet mumbling but didn't really look into it. The noise had vanished as he pulled back some of the old cover, slowly resting his body beside you. You had looked dead asleep, your body contracting slow and steady breaths. Exempt your mouth moving and forming words. He smirked, realizing you were taking in your sleep. He had some assumptions about it when you would ask questions with no reasoning. He wasn’t too worried. He propped himself up on his elbow to look over at you. “What do you mean you didn’t see it?! It was as big as your ass dude!” That’s something he’s never heard before. He couldn’t help but genuinely laugh at your behavior, shaking his head until he heard his name. “Well, Bo, what else do you want me compare it to, your dick!? Yeah right.” His face deadpanned, furrowing his eyebrows. He scoffed, turning over dramatically as he rolled his eyes. He faced away from you, biting the inside of his cheek. In the morning, he might tease you or ask questions around what you said. Either way, he’s not bothered by it.

Vincent Sinclair

It had been a long day for the boys and you within Ambrose. What a better way to go to sleep cuddled up together and arise later in the day by Bo? Of course, you were always first within the bed, already dead asleep and dreaming of whatever your mind wander to. Vincent kept awareness of where the creeks were in the floorboards, avoiding them so he could peacefully lay in bed next to your sleeping form. Yet he heard some prominent mumbling coming from you, serving closer and gently easing up the blankets to slip in. He had removed his mask already, carefully turning to face you. You had your arm over your eyes, mouth open and moving from incoherent sentences. But one was clear as day, “I’m convinced Vincent uses Gucci conditioner and shampoo, my god.” You mumbled a few after that but he was utterly confused. Why were you talking about that weird brand you had showed him once, and why did it correlate to your dream?? He shook his head gently, scooting closer and resting his arm across your waist/stomach, pulling himself against your form until he fell asleep to your rhythmic breathing. Sometimes, he’s entertained by your night time conversations.

Lester Sinclair

Your boyfriend had a fairly easy job compared to his brothers, but when there were visitors piling up after one another, it took a whole lot longer to come back home to you and your shared bed. The frogs and cicadas were a whole lot louder than usuals, but it was like a lullaby to you by now. Which queues the small mumbling escaping your mouth. He was quiet when he came, but of course, Lester wasn’t the best at silence. Luckily you were to lost in your dream to realize he was already snuggling in beside you. He had took notice of your nonsense sentences from time to time, not that it bothered him. If anything, it was an entertaining thing to listen to before going to sleep. It gave him a sense of what your brain really thinks of. “Lester… if I dressed up as roadkill… would you pick me up too?” He tried so damn hard to stifle his laugh, his body almost shaking as you formed a stupid grin on your face. Lester took in a deep breath, biting the inside of his cheek as he buried his head into the side of your neck. “Sure, hun’” he was sure to keep his words to a hush, taking note to your shared silence. There was a comfortable coldness that covered your bodies compared to the blistering heat outside. What a way to end the day.

Will Graham

Go to work, panic, panic some more and get no sleep. This was Wills routine even with you trying to hassle him into bed. He was always focused on something, or just simply to stubborn to let himself rest for once. But tonight, he had one hell of an excuse. Jack had kept him for a lot longer than both of you would like. But you knew what you signed up for when you accepted to go on a date with Will. You figured out after multiple nights of fruitless attempts at staying up and waiting for your boyfriend, you just gave in and went to sleep on your own terms. This gave Will the opportunity to overthink in peace without the guilt of making you worry. The job had took a huge toll on his physical capacity, leading him to shrugging off his clothing while he made his way to the side of the bed. He rubbed his eye, yawning as he lifted the blanket to the new queen bed you guys had bought, giving more room for dogs and the two of you. He stopped his motions, watching closely as you turned your body towards him. You were mouthing words but they were quiet and blotched. Will slowly slid underneath the covers, feeling his body sink in the end to a relaxed position. He had took not of your sleep talking, not bothered by it. To be honest, he likes to hear what you would say when you weren’t conscious of it. “I wish we had one of those stress powered lightbulbs…” A very quiet and short chuckle made its way out of you, “of course it’s for you, you could probably power Russia with how much stress you have.” And with that, he scoffed and turned the other way, mumbling to himself before attempting to sleep.

Jason Voorhees

Jason always makes sure you’re getting enough rest for your health. He’s adamant about you being your best self with a healthy body and mind. But, he’s never really surprised to see you up waiting for him time to time, honestly he can’t complain. He loves seeing you there in the cabin with the fire still going as you greet him with that beautiful smile. It’s truly warming for him. The rest of the nights, you’re always in the dark comfort of your shared room, resting atop the creaking bed and under the quilt blankets. The cabin door whipped open, quickly caught by the giant hand wrestling against the harsh winter wind. He tried his best to quietly close the door, pushing the lock in place he had added after a break in from a trespasser happened. He observed the room, laying his machete within the kitchen sink after shedding his jacket and laying it on the chair around the wood table. Expertly avoiding the creaks in the floor, he gently pushed open the bedroom door, slipping in without a sound. There was a severely dim light coming from the window, which shadowed over your face just right so he could see you. Jason had took off his boots while he listening to the common small talk from your sleeping form. You guys had decided to look in all the cabins, landing on the jackpot of a bigger bed so you could have more room. Therefore, it wasn’t a huge hassle for Jason to slip into the bed without the alarm of waking you. You were turned away from him, slow breaths from to body. The hockey mask laid on the dusty end table, facing up as Jason looked down at you. A small smile formed on his lips, listening as your talking grew a little more coherent. “Come on Jason, you got all that cake.. and you’re not gonna give me none?” His smile slowly faded, realizing what you meant by ‘cake.’ It ha mentioned before, especially when you went out of your way to slap his ass and look him in eyes to say, “a whole damn bakery back there..” Jason took it on himself to get used to it, not bothered by the comments. He shook his head, inching down so he could pull you closer to his chest, a very strong arm wrapped around you.

Michael Myers

There’s never a sleep schedule with the two of you. There’s times where Michael is out for days at time, retuning only when your asleep and unknowing. There are those very rare times like this one where you’re aware of Michaels presence in the bed while you drift of into sleep. He’s definitely not the type to pull you close or make a move to hold you, but he’s not going to push you away if you wrap yourself around him. Which is where you lay on his chest, listening to his eternally calmed heart beat as you knocked out. It had took a damn long time, but you achieved the privilege of seeing Michael without the infamous mask you grew accustomed too. His eyes usually zeroed in on the ceiling, waiting until he need to close his eyes came. But this time, he looked down at you shifting a bit in his chest, a few words spoken. “I really don’t know how people can’t smell you form your hiding places.. I can literally smell you before you walk in a room.. it’s not a good thing either.” His eyebrows furrowed together, trying to understand why you were composing about how he.. smelled. Yet here you are, your face completely shoved into his chest. He gave you an unimpressed eye roll, turning his head on the pillow for an attempt at some sleep. He found it rather amusing that you would speak whatever you thought without restrictions when you would sleep talk. Something to quietly tease you about.

Jesse Cromeans

He had already experienced your sleep taking, the cameras in his house capturing anything you did. Sometimes you asked questions or said random comments, all that made Jesse smirk or silently laugh. He had also taken notice to the earlier times you went to bed, your stubborn idea to stay up and wait for him dying down. He didn’t mind this, satisfied with your healthy sleep schedule returning. He set the tapes in a box for tomorrow’s checking. Jesse eased open the bedroom door, a small ray of light traveling across the room to reveal the bed you laid in. The black silk sheets covering your sound figure. He pushed the door back closed, taking off all his work attire to be left in his boxers and undershirt. He shimmied underneath the covers, slowly scooting closer to your body. Of course, there were some unconscious words to be shared. “I just realized I’ve got to sleep in every room…” there was some silence before you spoke again, “why?… look don’t even worry about.” There was humorous tone in the last sentence, one that felt oddly genuine for someone asleep. He shook his head, smiling while he took in your scent that comforted him. His hands caressed any exposed skin as the room fell silent, including his mind as you both shared a deep sleep.

Asa Emory

It wasn’t something he really cared to take notice about, never really sleeping at the same time as you due to his large amounts of work he took on. It was to the point he would drift off into a dreamless sleep on his desk. Not that you could really do anything about it with his stubborn view point, so you kept to yourself and went to your bed without him. Well, went to bed also meant brining a pillow and blanket down to Asas work place and sleeping the the chair. You just wanted to feel your boyfriends presence before you fell asleep. He only looked up for a few before looking back down at the scatter of papers, shuffling though some before writing. You made yourself as comfortable as you could get, sighing as you let your body relax. The sleep came easier than expected, the few sniffles sounding in the room letting you know Asa was still there. It was oddly comforting. A flash of worry did strike you, the worry that your sleep talking would annoy him, causing you to have to leave. But it was worth the few bits of it. Asa sighed, running his hand down his face as he battled the tired feeling back. Lending back in his seat, he crossed his arms while looking up to you in the leather chair. Without a warning, a question was asked out loud from you, “What color box would I get if I was one of your butterflies?” He tilted his head, furrowing his eyebrows before humoring himself by answering, “Red. To match the original one.” It seems like your dream had answered for you, the words quiet on your tongue as your chest arose slowly. Asa took in another breath before rising to his feet, walking over to you. He brought a hand up to your resting face, his thumb brushing your drink. What a beautiful butterfly you would be.

#bo sinclair #slashers #house of wax #lester sinclair #slasher #vincent sinclair #slasher x reader #x reader #fan fiction #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x s/o #jason voorhees #jesse cromeans x s/o #asa emory x reader #michael myers x s/o #will graham x reader #hannibal 2013 #will graham

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badassbuchanan · 3 years

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My Girl

Request: Could you writer some sort of frenemies thing with Bucky where everyone thinks you hate each other but then Loki starts flirting with you and it makes Bucky really jealous??

Warnings: smut; non!con turned fucking sickly sweet, fingering, slut shaming, unprotected sex, doggy, missionary, dirty talk, angst.

Word count: 7968

A/N: I apologise for messing with your hearts like this - I also strayed a bit from the request (sorry anon!) x

“Buchanan, you fucker!” Y/N yelled from across the compound moments before Bucky strutted into the boardroom with a roll of his eyes.

The rest of the team’s head’s turned to follow the loud noise of Y/N yelling, watching the long haired super soldier enter the room with a smug look on his face.

“Not again.” Bruce sighed softly, his head falling into his hand as he prepared himself for another bickering match between Y/N and Bucky.

“Don’t you walk away from me.” Y/N followed Bucky into the room, her eyes fixed on the back of his head as he casually made his way over to the others.

“Guys, cut it out.” Tony spoke sternly, trying to control the two avengers who were constantly at each other’s throats.

“Just wait until you hear what he said.” Y/N looked over at Tony who’s palms were pressed against the edge of the large conference table. He shook his head, looking between the two is disbelief.

“I don't ca-”

“Don’t be such a baby.” Bucky retaliated to Y/N childishly before Tony could speak. The super soldier slumped down in the empty seat next to Cap, his eyes focused on her from across the room as his elbows rested on the arm rests of the swivel chair. Neither of them cared that they’d bought the whole room into the argument. “All I said was I’d rather take my chances with spider-boy than have Y/N as my partner on a mission.”

“This is coming from the guy who couldn’t even hold on to a train.” She growled as she pulled out the seat next to Nat, who was smiling an amusement at how well Y/N stood up for herself. Bucky scoffed at her comment, shaking his head as he thought of something to anger her further.

Peter’s face screwed up in shock after realising his name had been mentioned, his arms coming up to cross over his body defensively. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked as a devious smile appear on Bucky’s face. Peter glanced over at Tony for help, but he was too annoyed to care about the youngest avenger’s feelings.

“It means-” Y/N words were cut off by a loud bang of Tony’s hand hitting the desk. The sound made everyone jolt slightly, the room immediately silencing.

“Enough!” He yelled furiously, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he glared between the bickering pair. “I didn’t call this meeting to hear you two fight. You’re already late, now stop acting like children and listen up.”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop the laughter that was building up inside of her from hearing Tony yell as she glared over at Bucky.

“Asshole.” She mouthed to Bucky, who was already smirking at the fact that they’d been told off like toddlers.

“Snitch.” He whispered back cheekily, secretly liking the way he knew it would make her laugh. Bucky liked being the only reason she got frustrated, wound up and tense. But he also liked being the only reason she smiled, laughed and blushed.

Bucky had this hold on Y/N that couldn’t be explained. She’d tried to reason with herself, telling her inner-self it was just her caring nature that made her feel sorry for him, even when he was a complete dick to her. He was constantly doing things to purposely annoy her or to get a reaction. It gave him a thrill. Like a power trip that sent pleasure to his brain. And he took advantage of that any chance he got.

“Now, over the past few weeks the threats from the Beyonders have increased noticeably.” Tony stood up straight, tugging his collar back into place as he clicked the button of the control he was holding. The screen changed, a mathematical graph appearing to prove Tony’s point.

Y/N chanced a glance over at Bucky, his fingers on each hand intwined as he swivelled lightly in the chair. God, he was so infuriating. There wasn’t a day that went by without him getting on her last nerve. He frustrated her beyond belief. But for some twisted reason, she loved it.

“Now we don’t know a lot about who they are, what they want or where they came from.” Tony continued, the room dead silent as he flicked to the next slide.

Bucky bit the inside of his lip, a frown appearing on his brows as he zoned out to what Tony was saying. He was bored already, deciding to look down at his metal hand as he wiggled his fingers to amuse himself, studying the mechanics of it.

He felt a pair of eyes burning into him, glancing over to Y/N. A smug smile washed over his face when he noticed her already looking at him. He gave her a quick wink, pouting his lips into a kissing motion as she rolled her eyes.

“So, we’ve had to call on the help of an old acquaintance.” Tony turned to face the team again, his fingers lightly tapping on the table in front of him as his eyes darted around the room. Luckily by that point, Y/N and Bucky had both turned their eyes back to the spokesman.

Tony’s tongue quickly darted out to the corner of his mouth, the unknown reaction of the team was making him anxious.

“Excuse me, Mr Stark. Thor and Loki have just landed. Should I send them in?” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice came through the intercom, immediately causing a few murmurs from the team.

“Loki’s here?” Y/N’s eyes lit up immediately as she looked up at Tony for confirmation. Bucky’s head shot round to where she sat, eyebrows furrowing as he wondered who the hell Loki was and why Y/N was so excited to see him.

“You called Loki?” Steve almost shot up out of his chair, a look of betrayal on his face as he stared at Tony, waiting for an explanation. “Tony, he is not an acquaintance.”

The fact that Steve was so put off by the mention of Loki had Bucky even more concerned. If Steve had a problem with him, so did he. Especially since Y/N liked him. As the room grew louder in outbursts of resentment regarding Tony’s decision, so did Bucky’s brain.

He watched Y/N try and fix her hair subtly, sitting up straighter in her chair as an unusual feeling flooded through him. He wasn't angry, but he sure as hell wasn’t happy.

The beep of the boardroom door opening quickly silenced the group, Y/N’s head turning to watch the God of Thunder walk into the room. “Hello everyone.” Thor nodded with a sweet smile, pleased to be back with his friends again. “Good to see you all.”

It was almost as if a cold wind engulfed the room as Bucky watched the dark haired, chiseled faced, pale god strut into the room. Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he felt a wave of overwhelming hate flood through his body. He noticed Loki’s hair was longer than his own. His eyes brighter. His smile wider. His jaw sharper.

“Greetings, all.” His voice was slicker. He was charismatic. He was charming. He was everything Bucky wasn’t and he fucking hated him. Bucky felt his heartbeat quicken as he watched Loki greet everyone individually, stopping in his tracks as he reached Y/N’s chair.

She’d turned to face him, her eyes lit up like fireworks as she looked up at the god of mischief who had put his hands over his mouth. “My god,” Loki gasped softly as he pulled his best puppy dog face, leaning his hands on the arms of Y/N chair to get close to her. “Y/N, you look more beautiful every time I see you, my love.”

Bucky felt his jaw clench so tight he was sure it would break. His hands closed into tight fists as he sat up a little straighter in his chair. He was livid. Livid at the fact that this green-eyed hot shot thought he could waltz in and steal Y/N away from him. Bucky was the only one that made her smile. He was the only one that got to have her attention.

“Oh, Loki, stop, you’re making me blush.” She giggled softly and wrapped her arms around his neck like they belonged there. Loki turned his face towards her, leaving a gentle kiss on her flushed cheek before he stood back up. Bucky had never made her giggle like that. He’d never kissed her cheek before. He’d spent every damn day with her and he never got her to blush like a little school girl.

“Maybe later you can show me your favourite spots and we can talk about what's changed since I was last here.” Loki spoke softly, taking Y/N’s hand in his as he pulled it against his chest dotingly.

A few snickers broke out from the rest of the team, not surprised one bit at Loki and Y/N’s interaction. Believe it or not, Y/N wasn’t Loki’s biggest fan. She would never actually progress their friendship to anything more than flirting, deep down she didn’t trust him just as much as Steve didn’t. But Y/N did love the attention that Loki gave her. How he treated her like a princess and devoted himself to her every word. She liked how he complimented her and made a fuss. She liked how he made her feel special in a room full of people.

But all that Bucky saw unravelling in front of his eyes was the start of one of those soppy rom-coms that he despised. “We have training later, Y/N.” His words came out a lot more aggressive than he originally intended.

The whole room’s attention turned to him, straight faced and stiffened body. Loki stood up straight as a glimmer shone in his eyes. He noticed how on edge the super soldier looked.

“Yeah, we’ll still have time to train, Bucky.” She spoke with a level of concern, noticing the unusual seriousness on Bucky’s face. “I wouldn’t skip on the opportunity to kick your ass.” She smirked, face immediately dropping as she watched Bucky quickly divert his eyes away, not entertaining her with his usual sarcastic response.

“Bucky?” Loki’s voice was low as thoughts flew through his brain at a million miles per hour. He smiled deviously, eyes squinting as his heart jumped at the chance to cause mischief. “James Buchanan Barnes. The winter soldier.”

Bucky clenched his jaw again as his eyes flickered up to Loki before back to the table, he could feel his anger bubbling over. Loki had been getting under his skin ever since he walked through the damn door.

“Hydra’s most successful experiment, their deadliest weapon.” Loki made a quick move around the table to stand in front of Bucky, his eyes widening with excitement as he held his hand out in front of him. “May I say what a pleasure it is to meet you.”

Steve noticed Bucky’s metal hand grip tightly around the arm of his chair as he politely lifted his flesh arm to quickly shake Loki’s hand. Bucky smiled as he momentarily looked up at the long haired god, using all of his will power to stay calm.

“How did it feel to know how many people you killed once you got your mind back?” Loki’s words were slow and full of deviance as Bucky’s metal arm began whirring into action.

Y/N watched worriedly, she annoyed the crap out of Bucky all the time, but she’d never seen him so angry. Her heart sunk as she watched Bucky’s eyes darken, a soft, lost look on his face that disappeared so quick she almost thought she’d imagined it.

Steve’s eyes widened as he watched the event unfold. “I think that’s enough chit chat, Loki.” He spoke sternly, Loki’s eyes immediately glancing over to Steve. He knew the fact that Steve had to step in meant he’d done a good job of infuriating Bucky. “Why don’t you just get on with what you came here to do.”

Loki stayed silent, pleased with his work as he flickered quick a smile, striding back up to the front of the room where Tony stood.

“The Beyonders are a race of extra-dimensional entities powerful enough to collect planets.” Loki went straight into ‘business mode’, his charismatic nature immediately made most of the room forget what he’d just said to Bucky.

But Steve was concerned, and embarrassingly enough, so was Y/N. Yes, she loved to aggravate Bucky, wind him up until he was chasing her down the hallway or whining at her to stop being a brat. But it was never to hurt him, she made sure of that. Not like what Loki had just done. She tried to silently get his attention by glancing over at him every now and then, but Bucky’s eyes didn’t budge from the table.

“Their nature is so alien that they are unable to leave their own dimension and for millennia were never observed by any being of the Earth dimension.” Loki continued to teach the team about the threat they were facing, the room silent as mostly everyone paid attention. “To interact with the Earth dimension they must operate through agents.”

“So basically, what Loki is saying is, it’s not just one race we’re up against here. It’s gunna be a big ass battle.” Tony interjected Loki’s speech, he’d read the room enough to know he’d lost the attention of three of his avengers already. There was no need for this to continue. “That’s all you need to know for now. We’ll regroup tomorrow for another meeting. Thank you, Loki.”

The team stood up, casually making their way out of the room after Tony had ended the meeting. Y/N lagged behind, watching Steve and Sam mumbling something incoherent to Bucky.

By the looks of things he didn’t want to listen to what they had to say, the long haired super soldier pushed past his oldest friend with a frown on his face, not lifting his eyes even once as he left the room.

Y/N sighed as she watched Bucky storm out of the room, she’d never seen him act out so much, he was always so internal with his emotions. She didn’t like the way Loki brought up Bucky’s past in front of everyone like that. She almost felt protective over Bucky, like she was the only one who should be able to tease him about that kind of stuff.

The look on Bucky’s face when Loki had mentioned the Winter Soldier’s assassinations made Y/N’s heart ache. It was as if everything came flooding back to him in an instant, like a bad dream he couldn’t wake up from.

Y/N and Bucky had never discussed such personal things, no way. She didn’t know that he suffered from PTSD, flashbacks and social anxiety. She didn’t know about the nights he lay awake haunted by his past. All she saw was a grumpy looking soldier who only smiled when he was making fun of her.

“Darling,” Loki’s sudden call to her knocked Y/N out of her thoughts. Her head was forced to turn to the side by the god of mischief, whose hands were on her shoulders. He smiled down at her dotingly, eyes bright as he fed her attention-needy ego. “What do you say we make the most of this alone time we’ve been so generously given, hm?”

She smiled softly up at him, although her eyes were glazed over as her mind wandered off again. “Sorry Loki, but I should go and get ready for training.” Her voice was monotone and quiet as she suddenly wasn’t so interested in the attention of the man in front of her.

She left the room and wandered through the compound, stopping in her tracks when she saw Sam, Steve and Nat talking in the kitchen. “Hey, Steve.” Y/N called out, confused as to why she was suddenly so concerned about the metal armed man.

As all three of the avenger’s heads turned to where she was standing, Y/N began second guessing her decision to ask if Bucky was okay. She hated Bucky, he annoyed the shit out of her. Even if she asked, the team would just think she was asking to make sure he wasn’t okay. What if they thought she’d take Loki’s side? Or worse. What if they thought she’d set Loki up to hurt Bucky? Even worse than that. What if Bucky thought Y/N had set Loki up to hurt him?

“Never mind.” She sighed as she bit the inside of her lip, continuing her walk through the compound until she reached her room.

She quickly changed into a red sports bra with navy detailing and leggings to match. She looked in the mirror after tying her training shoes and tied her hair into a high pony tail. She turned around, shamelessly checking out her ass before making her way down to the training room.

She waited for a whole half an hour for Bucky to show, but he never did. She stood up from where she’d eventually laid down on the rubber floor mat, she couldn’t help but feel guilty about what had happened earlier. Bucky obviously blamed her, why else wouldn’t he show? He’d never been late before.

“He didn’t show, huh?” Y/N glanced up as Steve walked into the room, tight grey top and black shorts.

She shook her head, lifting her arms to tighten her pony tail before placing her hands on her hips. “Any idea where he is?”

“In his room.” Steve shrugged, knowing that’s where Bucky spent most of his time. He started throwing controlled practice punches at the punching bag in front of him, stopping as he watched Y/N walk towards the door. “Maybe take it easy on him. I know he can annoy you sometimes but, I just think he’s having a bad day.”

She couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as she turned back to face Steve, he really thought she was going to yell at him for not showing up to training. She couldn’t blame him for thinking that, any other day and that's probably exactly what she would’ve done. “Loki was really out of line earlier, I actually just want to make sure Bucky’s okay.”

Steve smiled proudly at her from where he was taping up his hands, nodding slightly as if he were giving her the ‘go ahead’. There weren’t many people, even living in the compound, that would be willing to go out of their way to make sure Bucky was okay. It was partly his own fault, he was very stand-offish.

“Come in.” Y/N was surprised when she heard Bucky’s voice call out from beyond the door after she’d knocked. Honestly, she wasn’t expecting a response.

She opened the door slowly, noticing his neatly kept room with minimal belongings. She looked over Bucky who was standing by the foot of his bed, he was wearing different clothes from earlier. That, his slicked back hair and the scent of peppermint told Y/N that he’d just had a shower.

“What do you want?” Bucky mumbled bluntly, turning his back to her as he walked over to his desk to grab a newspaper. Y/N shut the door behind her quietly, watching as he glared at her before diverting his eyes away. He rubbed his face in his hand, sighing out of frustration when she didn’t answer. “I said what do you want?”

“Woah, at ease soldier.” She chuckled lightly, trying to make a joke to calm her nerves. She’d never been in Bucky’s room before. She’d never genuinely asked him about his feelings. She had no clue how he’d react. What if he made fun of her? “So this is why you bailed on our training, huh?” She smiled softly, pointing at the newspaper in his hand.

“I’m surprised you even noticed I wasn’t there.” Bucky scoffed out spitefully, referring to Loki asking to spend time with her.

“Of course I noticed.” Y/N frowned in confusion, watching Bucky roll his eyes as he slammed the newspaper back on the table.

“Why? Because you and your boyfriend didn’t have anyone to make fun of?” Bucky raised his voice, eyes squinting in anger as glared at her from where he stood. “Is that why you’re here now, hm? Didn’t get enough time to piss me off earlier? Or do you just wanna see how far you can push me before I snap?”

“Loki is not my boyfriend.” She screwed her face up, raising her voice to match his as she waved her hands in the air.

“Yeah, well, you suit each other.” Bucky snapped back sarcastically, a deep crease between his eyebrows formed as he frowned.

Y/N clenched her jaw, a burning heat rising up in her as her anger took control. “I came here to make sure you were okay, asshole!” She yelled furiously back at him, crossing her arms defensively.

“Oh yeah? Since when do you care about me?” Bucky spoke sarcastically, leaning his shoulder against the wall as he crossed his arms and waited for her response.

“Believe it or not, Bucky, some of us do care about you!” She snapped back at his sarcasm, her chest heaving with fury as she watched him immediately jolt off of the wall. “Normal people care about people other than themselves.”

“And I don’t?” His voice lowered drastically, he started walking towards her as if she were his prey. “Why? Because I have no feelings?” He clenched his fists by his sides, watching her press her back against the door as he stalked closer.

“I don’t know! No one knows what goes on in that cyborg brain of yours!” She argued, agrivated that she had tried to do the right thing by coming to see him, but his stubbornness was causing an argument.

“So that’s how you see me, huh? A robot with no emotion? An empty vessel? A killing machine?” Y/N gasped as Bucky’s metal hand tightened around her throat, pushing her head back against the door harshly. Her eyes widened innocently, trying to regain her breath as his face came square with hers. “You don’t know shit about me. About the constant fucking torture inside my head.”

“You didn’t kill those people, Bucky, it was Hydra. I saw the way you looked like a scared little puppy when Loki mentioned the-“

“The what?” Bucky growled huskily, keeping her head in place as his eyes stared into hers. He watched her pupils dialate as he squeezed the sides of her neck with his metal fingers.

His heart had stopped for a moment when she’d told him that Hydra was the one she blamed for what he’d done. He didn’t expect anyone to think that way, especially not her. A wave of emotion flooded through him, not jealously this time, but...what? Whatever it was, it caused butterflies in his tummy.

Bucky felt his cock twitch slightly at the sight of her submitting it him, for once in her life not fighting him. “The winter soldier?” Bucky whispered into her ear, Y/N’s eyes closing as she started to feel her pussy tingle. “Is that what this is all about? You wanna meet him? Wanna see me turn into a monster? Watch the light disappear from my eyes as I fucking destroy you?”

She couldn’t explain why his threats turned her on, all she knew was that she’d never been so aroused in her life. Her chest was heaving as he whispered in her ear, her panties flooding as his metal arm choked her.

The look she gave Bucky sent his head into a spin. She looked so helpless and innocent beneath his hand, but there was a hint of desire in her eyes. She wanted him, she wanted to please him, she wanted him to take whatever he wanted from her.

“You don’t scare me.” She whimpered softly, her lips parting as she tried to breathe. Bucky’s eyes flickered over her lips as an uncontrollable urge to kiss her washed over him.

“Still so mouthy.” He shook his head with a tut, their lips almost touching as he jolted his hand, pushing her head against the wall with more force. She let out a small cry. “You know there are other ways to get attention, baby.”

Y/N’s arousal was soaking through the material covering her crotch, her pebbled nipples rubbing against her sports bra. “Well it’s not my fault you’re always pissing me off.” She whispered bravely, her eyes fixed on his which had grown noticeably darker.

“Oh?” Bucky arched his eyebrow, tilting his head back slightly to assert his dominance. “You don’t like when I wind you up? When I say things to purposely get you to snap?” He leaned his head down, his lips tickling the delicate skin just behind where his fingers finished pressing into her neck.

Y/N listened closely to his words, realising that Bucky hadn’t been treating her that way because he hated her. He hadn’t been constantly on at her because he didn’t get along with her. In fact, he did it because he knew exactly what she liked. Exactly what kind of interactions she thrived off of. The kind that would always bring her back for more.

Bucky took her silence as an agreement, a smirk playing on his lips as he continued kissing her neck softly. “I know exactly what gets you going, don’t I?” He continued, finally letting go of her neck as his metal arm trailed down her chest.

Y/N let out a shaky breath as her throat was now unrestricted, her eyes dropping to where his hand was on her. Bucky’s flesh palm was planted firmly on the wall next to her head, trapping her there.

“Is that why you’re always so frustrated around me? Hm? Constantly coming back for more?” He kissed her cheek, almost affectionately as he watched her squirm under his touch. “Such a needy little attention whore.”

She didn’t bite back, her head lifted to lean against the wall, her thighs desperately rubbing together to relieve some of the tension building between her thighs. She liked it.

Bucky chuckled deeply, looking down at where his fingers had dropped to play with the waistband of her exercise leggings. He hooked the tips of his metal fingers inside, entertaining himself as he looked back up at her. “Tell me honestly, baby, whose attention do you crave most?”

“Yours.” She whimpered desperately, not even taking a moment to think. His lips ghosted over hers, his eyes big and innocent as he brushed their noses together.

“Not that green goblin who calls himself a god?” Bucky tested as he stepped closer, their bodies touching as his hand pressed against her lower stomach. She whimpered at the feeling of his cold metal fingers on her bare skin, so close to where she needed him most.

“No.” She submitted to him instantly, shaking her head as Bucky slowly pushed his hand further down into her pants.

He stopped when he reached the band of her panties, a loud gulp erupted from Y/N’s throat as Bucky teased her even more. “You sure? S’not too late to go running back to him.”

“No, Bucky, I want you.” She breathed out shakily, almost crying in frustration as Bucky licked his lips, her words were like music to his ears. Her hand came down to rest on his lower tummy, feeling his muscles through the thin material of his t-shirt.

“Why, Y/N?” He growled as their breaths hit each others lips, she clawed softly at his stomach, overwhelmed with pleasure before he’d even begun. “Tell me why you want me and not him.”

She felt exhausted, like her body could collapse at any moment. She was in a euphoric state from his light touches and words alone. She looked down at his lips, her eyes half shut as she grabbed hold of his metal wrist, pushing his hand down into her panties.

Y/N let out a soft moan as his metal fingers slipped between her slick folds, her head hitting the wall with a thud. She looked up at Bucky, watching his eyes fall to where his hand disappeared into her leggings. His brows were furrowed in a frown, his mouth slightly hung open as he slipped his fingers deeper into her. “Because only you make me wet.”

Bucky lost control, pushing his lips against hers in a desperate kiss as two of his metal fingers slipped into her hole. Y/N moaned into the kiss, her hand flying up to hold the back of his neck, pulling him down harder onto her lips. If only he’d known. If only he’d known that every cocky remark, every teasing comment left her this wet.

“God, if Id’ve known all it took to shut you up was my fingers in your wet little hole I would’ve fucked you a long time ago.” Bucky chuckled darkly, his words were condescending. He pushed his tongue between her lips, a growl escaping his throat as she sucked on his warm muscle.

His fingers moved in and out of her aching pussy, his whole hand drenched in her arousal. Y/N whimpered when he curled his fingers inside of her, hitting a spot of pleasure that she didn't know was there.

“Bucky.” She moaned against his lips, her hips bucking into his hand as his thumb moved to rub her throbbing clit. She tugged on his hair, her arms resting on his shoulders as she steadied herself.

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” He asked smugly, tilting his head before pressing their lips together sensually. “You wanna cum all over metal hand, you horny little slut.”

“Yeah.” She whimpered out breathlessly, sucking on his top lip as she rocked her hips against his hand, pushing them further inside of her. “Make me cum, please, Bucky.”

“I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this, you hear me?” Bucky growled into her mouth, biting down on her lip hard enough to hurt. He felt Y/N’s hips rut against his hand again, a smile appearing on his lips as he felt how desperate she was.

She whimpered, her back arching off of the wall as she rolled her hips toward him. She looked up into his eyes innocently, like he was the only person in the world.

Bucky felt his cock pressing harshly against the material of his track pants, desperate for attention. He watched her bounce on his fingers, her hand moving from his shoulder to pull the tight material of her sports bra over her tits, letting them bounce freely.

Bucky’s eyes darkened at the sight of her boobs, his fingers speeding up inside her tight pussy as he met every movement of her hips. “Fuck yourself on my hand, just like that, make yourself cum.”

Her thighs clenched around his hand, controlling his movements as she clung to his wrist, fucking herself on his hand just like he’d told her to. “Shit, Bucky.”

Y/N clenched rapidly around his metal fingers, his thumb harshly pressed against her sensitive nub as she felt her orgasm taking over.

She leaned in to press her lips against his, hoping to muffle the moans, but Bucky was too fast. He moved his head out of reach, smiling down at her deviously as she came.

Her moans filled the room, her nails digging in to his shoulder as she bucked her hips unrhythmatically into his palm. “Fuck.” She whimpered as she clung to his chest, trying to calm down from the overwhelming sensation.

Bucky pulled his fingers out of her before she could even catch a breath, little moans escaping her lips as she watched him suck his fingers soaked in her juices.

“Shit.” He breathed heavily as he looked down at where his fingers had just been, a noticble wet patch covering the material of her leggings. “You’re so fucking wet, soaked right through your leggings.”

Y/N whimpered in response, tugging his metal hand down to her mouth as she sucked on his fingers. Bucky clenched his jaw as he watched her submissively take his fingers, her soft plump lips wrapping around them.

“Bucky,” she breathed shakily as he pulled his fingers from her mouth to hold her hips. She wrapped her hands around his biceps as she pulled body against hers. “I want you to fuck me.”

He smiled darkly at her desperate state, his cock throbbing as he tilted his head to the side. “It’s gunna hurt.” He chuckled, enjoying the thought of impaling her on his cock.

“Good,” She pouted as she ran her hands down his muscular form, desperate to feel his cock in her hand. “I want it to hurt.”

Bucky immediately caught on to what she was doing, his hands quickly moving to grab her wrists tightly. He skilfully used his strength to spin her around, her exposed chest pressing hard against the wall as he held her hands behind the small of her back.

Y/N let out a small cry, his body pressed tightly against her back. She felt the outline of his cock pressing against her ass cheek as she ground back into him.

“Don’t you dare try and take control.” Bucky growled deeply, his head dropping as he watched his bulge rub against her.

Bucky groaned at the feeling, he let go of her wrists, her palms moving to press against the wall. His hands quickly moved to pull the waistband of her leggings and panties down to free her ass.

He gulped loudly as he watched the wetness pool down onto her panties. Bucky had to stop himself from dropping to his knees and fucking her with his tongue.

“Come on Bucky,” Y/N whined desperately as she kicked her bottoms off the rest of the way, almost crying out of frustration. “Don’t you wanna fuck the brat out of me?” She turned her head to look at him, biting her lip as she watched him tugging on his cock that he’d pulled out of the confinements of his pants.

He was huge. Her lips parted in a gasp as she took in the beauty of his cock. She had to stop herself from turning around and sucking him off. Bucky lifted his flesh hand up to her mouth, watching as she obediently licked a strip up his palm with her tongue.

Bucky looked her almost naked form up and down, moving his wet hand to lubricate his cock as he tugged himself off. “God, you make me so wet, Bucky.” She moaned sensually, spreading her legs a little wider as she felt her juices running down the inside of her thigh.

He closed his eyes, letting his metal fingers dig into her hip as he positioned himself behind her, lining his tip up with her dripping heat. He bit his lip, forcing his cock into her tight walls as she moaned like a pornstar for him.

“Oh, yes.” She screamed at the feeling of his thick length stretching her pussy. “Fuck, Bucky.” She felt his cock twitch inside of her, encouraging her to moan louder. She closed her eyes, leaning her cheek against the cold wall as she tried to adjust to his monstrous size.

“Good girl, let everyone know who you belong to.” Bucky moaned as he stilled, fully sheathed inside of her. Her pussy clenched around him, hugging his thick shaft trying to milk him of his cum.

“You’re so big.” She whimpered submissively, trying to stop her hips from jolting to get used to his cock throbbing inside of her. Bucky could tell that she was already fucked out, his cock was too much for her to take. But for once, she wasn’t answering him back or being a pain in his ass. She was begging him.

Bucky bit down on his bottom lip as he suddenly began moving his hips in and out of her, the action easy because of how wet she was. He held her hips in place as she cried out, still trying to adjust to his size. Her tits bounced as she lost control of her body, pushing her palm harder against the wall as she steadied herself.

“No, Bucky, wait.” She whimpered, moving her other hand back to push his hip back, needing a little more time to adjust. A dull ache took over her pussy as he fucked her relentlessly, easily fighting against where her hand was pushing him away.

“You said you wanted it to hurt.” He growled dominantly, pulling her hips back against his cock as he fucked into her, treating her like his own little sex doll. His cock twitched at the sound of her erotic moans filling the room loudly, a grunt erupting from his lips as he watched his cock disappear into her pussy.

Her clit throbbed with pleasure, her ass being pulled back harshly against his skin. Slapping sounds grew louder with her pussy still dripping with arousal, his cock easily slipping in and out of her.

“I do,” She breathed heavily, her head spinning with pleasure as she dropped her hand from his hip, the feeling of needing to help him feel better overwhelming her senses. “Take it all out on me, Buck.”

His hips didn’t let up, fucking deep into her as he felt a different feeling flow through his body. He looked at the girl in front of him, so ready to help him fuck away his problems. So ready to help him, where most people would’ve run.

Bucky’s heart felt like mush, a moan leaving his lips as Y/N arched her back into his touch. He moved his body forward to press his chest flush against her back, his metal hand pressing into the wall.

He’d pushed his cock deeper into her with the new angle, another loud moan of his name escaping her lips as she leaned her head back against his shoulder.

Bucky felt her pussy clenching around him again, his flesh arm wrapping around her chest to hug her tighter against him. She started circling her hips on his cock, a deep growl came from his chest as he fucked her.

“Did you mean it?” He whispered into her ear, fucking deep inside of her as he made her moan for him. She whimpered softly, her eyes closing in pure bliss as she felt his cock pressing against her cervix.

She turned her head towards him, her eyes darkened and fucked out as she looked at his face. His stubble scratched her cheek, his eyes glistening in the dull light of the room. He waited for an answer for what seemed like a lifetime, his thrusts getting rougher as he clenched his thighs.

“Did you mean it?” He repeated the question, feeling his balls slapping against her skin. Y/N looked up into his eyes, noticing the softness in them which wasn’t there before. “Did you mean it when you said you’re not scared of me?”

A warm feeling flooded Y/N’s heart as she saw that look again - the scared puppy look that she’d seen when Loki mentioned the winter soldier. Her chest tightened around itself, the pain in his eyes was so deep it almost hurt her to see.

“Yes,” She nodded softly, her hand moving to play with his hair as she watched Bucky’s eyes flicker down to her lips. “Of course I meant it.” Her eyebrows raised, almost to confirm her sincerity as she pressed her lips to his.

Bucky sighed in relief as he felt her lips against his, embarrassingly too shy to do it himself. He deepened his thrusts, hugging her body as he fucked up into her. But now it was more than fucking, it was like they were connected on a completely different level. Like they understood each other more than anyone else would ever understand them. Y/N had never seen this side of him before and it was making her fall in love. and that scared her.

She pushed her ass back against him, moaning into the kiss as she felt his cock twitching inside her walls. She knew she was close, her clit tingling at the full feeling of his length fucking her. Bucky knew it too, he felt the way she was squeezing around him.

He felt an overwhelming amount of emotion coursing through his veins, his heart almost beating out of his chest as he slid his cock out of her. Before she could protest, Bucky spun Y/N to face him, his chest heaving as she pressed her hand against his peck.

“Do you think you could ever love me?” He nudged her nose with his, looking down at the floor as he breathed shakily. Her eyes saddened at his vulnerability, wondering how many times that thought had crossed his mind, thinking the answer was no. “Do you think anyone could ever love me?”

“God, you’re such a fucking idiot sometimes, Barnes.” She sighed with a sad smile, a little chuckle escaping her lips as Bucky looked up at her eyes in a moment of bravery.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his automatically move to hold her hips. She felt his throbbing cock against her crotch, ignoring the sexual desire as she focused on taking care of his feelings. “Of course I love you.” She admitted shyly, the flush on her cheeks not just from the raw fucking.

Bucky tried to control the smile from beaming on his face, but he failed miserably. She looked up at the handsome soldier, her heart skipping a beat knowing she was the reason for his happiness. “Why else do you think I constantly bug you? Or instantly forgive you for all the things you do to make me mad, hm?” She played with his hair as Bucky licked his lips, admiring her through hooded eyes.

She squealed as Bucky suddenly pressed his lips against hers deeply, giggling like a little school girl as he picked her up by her thighs. Bucky’s heart fluttered at the sound of her laughing, her hand cupping his stubble-covered face as she tilted her head into the kiss.

Bucky turned them around, walking them over to his bed as he flicked his tongue between her parted lips. She moaned into the kiss, feeling herself falling before her back landed on the soft mattress.

She opened her eyes when Bucky took his lips away, a small pouty smile on her lips as she watched him lifting his shirt over his head. She ran her hand down his bare chest as Bucky threw the material to the floor.

Y/N took the opportunity to lift her sports bra the rest of the way off, letting it join Bucky’s t-shirt. He sat up between her legs, admiring her now fully naked form as he tugged his tracksuit pants off.

Bucky hovered back over her, his hands coming to rest either side of her head as he followed her eyes to where his metal arm fused with his skin. He gulped loudly as her hand came up towards the modification, her eyes meeting his to ask for permission.

Bucky nodded nervously, still in slight disbelief that she hadn’t run away yet. He felt her soft fingers trace the frame of the metal shoulder, following the boarder which connected to his flesh. His heart skipped a beat as she watched a soft smile cover her face, moving her eyes back up to meet his. “It’s so beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.” He smiled down at her bashfully, moving his hand to grab hold of hers as he leaned down towards her lips.

“My goodness, did I just hear old man Barnes call me-”

He cut off her sass with a kiss, a chuckle erupting from both of them as he shook his head. “Don’t ruin the moment.” She scrunched his face up with a smile, looking down at her dotingly.

“Sorry.” She giggled cheekily, wrapping her thighs around his hips as she pulled him closer. Her nails scratched lightly down his back as she lifted her head to kiss him again.

Bucky groaned, feeling his cock rub against her pussy lips. A moan escaped Y/N’s lips as she tugged on his hair, feeling his cock pushing back inside her.

“Fuck.” She let out in a whimper, her eyes big and innocent as she felt him bottom out inside of her. She tilted her head to the side, her other hand holding his chest as she deepened the kiss.

Bucky started fucking her deep and slow, feeling every clench of her needy pussy. He breathed heavily through his nose, short grunts vibrating in his throat as he twitched inside of her.

“Y/N,” He moaned deeply, letting their lips brush against each other as her breath tickled his face. “I love you.” He clenched his jaw as he felt his orgasm approaching fast.

Her tits bounced against his chest, her back arching at the feeling of him filling her sweet cunt with his cock. “I love you, Buck.” She let out with a cry, Bucky’s skin rubbing her throbbing clit as her thighs clenched around his body, a wave of euphoria erupted through her body.

“Oh, Bucky.” Her hips erratically bucked up to meet his, her pussy pulsing around him as she came. Her nails dug harder into his back, leaving imprints that would at least last a day.

“Fuck.” Bucky moaned into her neck, his brows furrowing into a frown as he muffled his grunts against her skin. The feeling of her coming on top of him had Bucky’s hands gripping tightly at the bedsheets. “I’m gunna cum.”

“Bucky,” She whimpered shyly, rubbing the back of his neck soothingly as she hugged him close, rolling her hips onto his. “Can you cum inside me?”

“You want me to?” He groaned softly, trying to stop himself from cumming so soon, but the feeling of her was too good.

“Please.” She nodded as Bucky turned his head to look at her, hovering his lips against hers for a second before pressing them against his passionately. He felt his orgasm hit, his hips rutting into her as he filled her with his cum.

Y/N looked down at where their bodies were connected, watching his cock slide into her overstimulated pussy as he rode out his high. She whimpered softly as she rubbed his shoulder soothingly, his softening cock slipping out of her.

Bucky looked down too, both watching as his cum dribbled out of her pussy. He smiled proudly before looking back up at her, tracing his finger over her cheek lightly. “Guess the team will be happy that this means our constant bickering will stop.” Bucky chuckled sweetly, looking down at her face.

“What does this mean?” She prodded him lightly with her finger, smiling up at him as she admired his gorgeous eyes.

“It means you’re my girl.” He mumbled before kissing her lips softly.

“Do I get a say in this at all?” She faked a shocked look and giggled in amusement, watching the cheeky smile appear on his face.

Bucky shook his head before kissing her again. “No.” He smiled softly, the feeling of pure happiness making him kiss her over and over.

“Okay, fine, I’ll be your girl.” She let out a fake sigh of exasperation, her heart thudding against her chest like she’d never felt before. “But I just have one question.”

“Okay.” Bucky dragged out the word suspiciously, sitting up on his knees as he rubbed the tops of her thighs.

“Do you honestly think me being your girlfriend means I’m not gunna still constantly annoy the shit out of you?” She let out lowly with a smirk, watching Bucky groan dramatically as he dropped down next to her on the bed, a huge smile on his face.

He knew she was right, but he didn't mind at all. In fact, he never minded before anyway.

tag list:

@harrysthiccthighss

@annestine

@bestofbucky

@be-patient-be-good

@nothing0is4here

@velvetcardiganbucky

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Bent, not broken 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; violence; injury; blood; fingering, mean Steve

This is a dark!fic and features the winter soldier and Captain Hydra x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: An attack leads to the uncovering of decades old secrets when you are taken by the deadliest assassin in the world

Note: Here’s part 3. Right now I’m bouncing between things but open to suggestion for the upcoming week for ongoing series. (I’ll likely just add onto my Lee fic).

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The days passed like a pendulum, swinging between paranoia and suffocating tension. You felt like an animal caught and caged. Much of your time was spent in that room, abed and alone. Your only contact was when Steve brought you your meals but the soldat did not appear again. You were relieved not to have the silent watchdog around but it also made you uneasy.

The pain dulled. Your shoulder loosened up first and no longer sent a jolt down your arm every time you moved. Your ribs were another issue and even as the agony was less intense and consuming, the echo of the injury remained. You felt brittle as if one wrong move would break you completely.

Then, when the pain was not so strong to distract you, you grew restless. The walls seemed closer together and the meals further apart. Steve’s appearances were brief and mostly wordless. He’d linger to check on your injury or bark at you to eat, but he wasn’t as talkative as your first day in the hideaway.

There was little for you to do. You were left with a copy of War and Peace and the tight font often left your eyes fuzzy and fatigued, your mind as well. There was a booth hidden behind the narrow door and you washed when you felt up to it, the water ice cold. You spent much of your time staring at the ceiling, wishing it would collapse on you.

You weren’t stupid. You knew it was all methodical. The indifferent isolation. You were being conditioned like a dog with a bell and it was working. You longed for any contact, any company, and conversation.

That day, the door opened but you didn’t move. You laid with your head on the pillow, arms crossed, and one leg over the other. Steve placed the metal bowl on the nightstand and sighed as he stood by the bed. You felt him watching you as you ignored him for the pale white above.

“Sit up and eat,” he said.

You glanced at him. The scar through his eye wrinkled as he grimaced and tapped his fingers on the table. You shrugged at him and sighed.

“I’m not hungry,” you said.

“Eat,” he repeated.

“I will,” you relented, “when I feel like it.”

“Now,” he grabbed the bowl and put it over your chest, “come on.”

You rolled your eyes and sat up and took the bowl. His eyes clung to you as you bent your legs and stirred the thick oats. The goopy mixture made a gross noise as you did.

“You don’t like it?” he said.

“Bland,” you took a bite, “doesn’t matter.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” he rebuked, “you better be done by the time I return.”

You looked at him as he turned away and headed for the door abruptly. You choked down the thick porridge and took another bite. You were hungry but the pasty oatmeal went down like rocks.

When he came back, you scooped up the last mouthful and put the bowl aside. He neared and draped a lilac dress by your legs. You stared at it then looked him in the face. His expression was as impenetrable as the mountain compound.

“What is that?” you asked dully.

“Don’t be stupid and put it on,” he put his hand on his hip, “I’d say it’s a bit more fitting than that prison uniform.”

“Is it?” you grumbled as you tentatively reached for the purple fabric.

“Or you can go naked,” he reached out and jabbed your shoulder.

“Fine,” you turned your legs over the bed and watched him expectantly.

He raised a brow and waited. You shied away at his unflinching stare and swiped up the dress. You crawled to the other side and kept your back to him. You took off the shapeless shirt and dropped it behind you. You pulled on the dress and stood, pushing down the baggy bottoms. The dress floated at mid thigh and left you feeling exposed.

“Your ribs are healing,” he remarked, “you should be able to take the bandage off.”

You faced him as he went to the foot of the bed. He waved you over and continued to the door.

“Should get the kinks out,” he said as he set his thumb in the sensor and the metal slid up, “a proper tour is in order.”

You neared as he turned and waited for you to precede him. As you passed, his eyes slipped down your body and he tilted his head. You looked away quickly and carried on into the hallway. There was little point resisting a man who could break you in two with his pinky, especially in your state.

“Looks good,” he said as he followed you out and came up arm to arm with you, “you know, you, me, the soldier, we’re the only ones who know about this place. Not that you know much, huh?”

“I don’t like games,” you retorted, “I’m… tired. Please, don’t--”

“I found this place in 1955,” he led you along the shining halls, “it’s had a facelift since then. A hobby on the side. Used to be Stalin’s hideout, akin to Hitler’s bunker if anything ever went south. When he died, the co-ordinates were lost. They sent me out to find it…”

“They? Hydra? Why--”

“Because the other guys didn’t care,” Steve said, “I saw how they celebrated my death as some patriotic feat. Like I was just a shield. You know, the ‘bad guys’, at least they don’t try to lie about what you are. They use you exactly like they need to and don’t sugar coat it.”

“And your… friend… you like how they use him?”

Steve stopped short and caught your arm, “it’s best for him. He couldn’t handle a clear mind. We keep each other safe, like we always did.”

“Mmm,” you hummed.

“As I was saying,” he nudged you onward, “I gave them a fake map and all they found was a demolished bunker. It kept them happy and me too. I got a place to lay low. Place of my own.”

You turned down the next hall. You were quiet as he led you along, past that room with the bar and around another corner. You lost sense of direction as he took you deeper into the hideaway. You came into a large corridor with a glass wall that overlooked a mountain pass without. You were breathless as you stopped to peer through.

“He’ll hurt you again,” Steve said bluntly, “we both know that.”

“Then why keep me here? You can let me go. I wouldn’t say a word, I wouldn’t even know what to say--”

“And why would I do that?” he asked blithely as he admired the deep drop and jagged offshoots.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“It’s much more fun to keep you,” he chuckled, “and he wanted you so taking you away won’t do shit.”

“I don’t--”

He raised his finger and hushed you. He squinted as he listened but you didn’t hear anything but the winds on the other side of the glass. Steve’s mouth slanted and he stepped past you. You turned to the end of the corridor and heard a soft padding that grew to a tremulous stomp.

“Speak of the devil,” Steve taunted, “sounds like a rough mission.”

When the soldier emerged from the next hall, you gasped. His face was a smear of grit and blood, his locks dangling and slick around his mask. His gear was torn and gashed in places and his metal fist clenched as the plates of his arm bore even more scratches than before.

He stopped and his eyes dilated as he saw you. Steve went to him calmly and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you’re back,” he said softly, “snap out of it.”

He tapped the mask so the soldat looked at him instead. Their eyes met as the soldier’s chest puffed and slowed. Steve’s other hand went to his chest, just over his heart. The captain leaned in and kissed his temple, issuing a whisper you could not hear.

You were too shocked and confused to do more than watch. Steve gripped Bucky’s jaw and turned his gaze onto you. He smirked as he held him.

“Look at her,” he slithered, “isn’t that what you wanted? A pretty little plaything.”

The soldat didn’t move, just stared.

“She’s all ready for you,” Steve let go and clapped his chest, “isn’t that a nice dress, huh? A nice peek of her legs… don’t you want to know what’s underneath? Don’t you want to touch it?”

You took a step back as goose bumps rose on your skin. Steve released him and snickered. The soldat brought one boot down and then the next, marching slowly towards you.

“Let’s have some fun,” Steve boomed and his eyes narrowed over Bucky’s soldier, “soldat, engage.”

His next step came down quicker and you spun on your heel. Without thinking, you dashed away in a blur of terror. You could hear him behind you, the heavy soles thunderous against the slap of your bare feet. You got around the next corner and your ribs throbbed painfully as your lungs burned.

You peeked over your shoulder. He wasn’t running, he was walking. A mock of a chase as he kept within sight even as you raced on. Your heart pounded in your ears and your legs felt like jelly. It was so long since you did more than pace your room or lay in bed.

You stumbled deep in the maze, all recollection of the path Steve led you on gone. You hit your knees on the hard floor and hissed. You had only a moment to gulp down air before you were seized by the back of your neck. You staggered as you were spun and your back collided with the cold wall.

The soldier’s metal hand was quick to grasp your throat and push your chin up as he held you on tiptoes. You clawed at his fingers as his other hand crept up your thigh. Your eyes watered as it felt like a vice was wrapped around your neck and chest. You quivered as the skirt caught on his hand and slowly rose with his touch.

You squeezed your thighs around his fingers and he poked you so harshly you whimpered. Your legs parted for him and he pushed against your bare cunt. You clung to his wrist as your other hand slapped at his bicep. His blue eyes focused on your skirt as he delved between your folds.

Your feet arched as you tried not to slip and your calves cramped. You whined through your teeth as he turned his hand and pressed the heel of his palm to your clit. He bent his finger into you and drew a pathetic yipe from you. He felt around inside and added another, eliciting another tremulous yelp.

“Pl.. please,” you rasped, “don’t… you don’t want to…” his eyes flicked up and met yours.

He paused as he gazed back at you and you squirmed. He hesitated and for a moment, it felt like he might drop you. Another set of footsteps approached evenly and Steve tutted as he came upon the scene.

“You shouldn’t play with your food,” he said, “go on. You know what you want to do. It’s why you took her.”

You choked as his fingers tightened and he buried himself to his knuckles, his hand firm to your clit. He rocked his hand and your body, every tilt sending a jolt through you. Your walls were scoured by his intrusion and your core thrummed at the distant stirring of instinct.

“Please…” you cried.

“Shhh,” Steve came closer and leaned on the wall next to you, “we don’t want him to break something else.”

“Wh-why--” you coughed.

“Faster,” Steve snarled, “make her feel it.”

The soldier lifted you off your feet with each dip of his fingers. You slapped your hand against the wall and reached for the captain. He swatted your hand away and backed up as he watched you. He rounded Bucky and peered at you from the other side and hummed. He sucked his teeth and came closer, his hand on the soldier’s shoulder.

“More,” he urged.

You closed your eyes and shrieked as his hand sped up, slamming into you over and over as your thighs clamped around him. You gritted your teeth as your pulse raced and you were swept up in a sudden fit of dizziness. You felt fire flickering from his touch, building and building a spark at a time as your body rebelled.

“Look at her,” Steve purred, “so weak, so small. Nothing. She’s not like us, she’s just one of them.”

You groaned as your cunt made slick noises around Bucky’s fingers and his hot breath glossed over you. He leaned in and his hand moved so that his thumb pressed along your jaw painfully. You whined as you felt as if he’d crush the bone.

“She’s almost there,” Steve mused, “faster, yeah, like that.”

You wailed as you came, terrified of the man before you and the way your body bent to him. Your nails grazed down the leather across his chest and your hand dangled limply as you let the tide wash over you. He kept on until you could hardly breathe and dropped you suddenly. Your legs folded and you crashed to the floor.

You kept yourself from keeling over onto your face and pushed your back against the wall. You peeked up as Steve took Bucky’s hand and licked his glistening fingers. You cringed as he let go and his attention turned on you. He knelt and exhaled deeply as he smirked at you.

“You want to know why?” he blinked and his nose scrunched sardonically, “because I didn’t want this. I was happy. Just me and him. Decades and he decides to go out and catch a pet.”

“No, I…” you rubbed your throat as it burned.

“Him, I know, but it doesn’t hurt any less,” Steve scowled, “but we can make it work.” He reached to you and brushed his thumb over your cheek, “I can make use of you. Just the way you took his fingers, that look on your face…” he retracted his hand and leaned his elbow on his leg, “and he could use an outlet. Something to ease the tension.”

“You… and him?” you wondered aloud.

“It’s the twenty-first century, isn’t it?” Steve stood and slapped the soldier’s ass. He got a sharp look in response, “not that it ever really mattered.”

“It’s not… I just didn’t… realise,” you rasped.

“Mhmm,” Steve intoned, “you’re just innocent.”

“I didn’t--”

“Get her up,” he ordered, “take her to our room and get her cleaned up. You too. You smell.”

You flinched as the soldier grabbed your arm and forced you up. Your thighs quaked in the after shock and your core ached. He pulled you away from Steve and you limped beside him. You shivered as the cold air enshrined your hot flesh.

“No touching,” the captain warned, “not until I say so.”

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warmblanketwhump · 3 years

Note

✓ and ✈️? and for the ✓, i think the confused one could be cute!! i love your writing!

(that's so sweet of you! thanks for reading!)

✓: waking up either adorably confused or painfully scared

✈: reaching out for someone [bonus points if they mumble! their! name!]

B groans with relief as they plop down next to the fire, taking a moment to massage their aching legs. It had been a long travel day, and they were looking at several more of those before their party would return to their village.

It didn't help that A had come down with a cold. All the nights sleeping out in the frigid woods must've taken their toll on their small, frail body, and they’d woken this morning feverish, coughing, and refusing to shed their blanket.

B had volunteered their horse to carry them the rest of the journey, and that meant an even harder trek for them on the rocky paths. But they could handle it. And A had slumped over the minute they settled on the saddle, so they knew that their sacrifice had been well worth it.

B shook their head. If it was up to them, A would have stayed home in the first place, getting provisions ready for the winter like they usually did this time of year. But A had wanted - nay, demanded - to come on this year’s trip, and B had been outvoted by the other dozen members of the group.

Now, as they looked at the sniffling, coughing bundle sleeping in two bedrolls near their feet, they felt a fierce protectiveness rise in their gut. They couldn't stop A from coming, but they'd make darn sure they made it back in one piece. The chatter and laughter of the rest of the camp lulls them into a daze, and they stare up into the clear, velvet sky pinpricked with starlight, dreaming of the hour-long bath they'd take when they got-

"Home?"

The scratchy voice cuts through B's thoughts and their head snaps to attention. A's struggling to push themselves up, and they try to untangle their limbs and climb out from the bedroll. B's at their side in an instant.

“A. Easy, there. Lay back down. Shhhh." B motions to pull the covers back over A, but they resist, half-lidded, fever-bright eyes searching wildly.

"Home," they repeat, looking around them wildly. They throw a finger to point over at C. "C. From home." C glances warily from side to side and points at themselves with raised eyebrows, but B waves them off. A's still half asleep, and from the looks of things, this is not a conversation they'll be remembering in the morning.

"A, we're not home. We're out on the trail, remember? C came with us." A's eyes look like they're searching for some secret code on B's face - either that, or B's facial features have all rearranged themselves. Then, like a lightning bolt, clarity sparks in their tired face.

"Not home?" A's face falls, and they glance up at the dark sky, then over to the crackling fire. They cross their arms against the evening chill and look back at B, unsure of what to do with this shattered illusion.

"Not yet, bud." B smiles softly. "Let's get you tucked back in."

A's limbs are pliable as B covers them back up, and they huddle into the bedroll and stare at the flame. B goes back to their horse to retrieve an extra blanket for A - there was no telling how cold it'd get tonight.

When they return, they’re surprised to see A still awake. At the sound of B's footsteps, A rolls back over, and B sees the glint of tears pooling in A's eyes. Their lower lip quivers as they hold their shaky arms out to B, and a single tear slips down their cheek.

"Home," they whisper. "B, I want to go home."

B feels the prickle in their own eyes as they scoop A into their lap, snuggling them close to their chest in the warm blanket and cradling their head in their hand. "I know you do, bud. We all do. Just a couple more days, okay?"

A sniffs a couple times and curls closer to B. "Go home now," they whimper stubbornly. B chuckles half-heartedly, pulling the blanket up closer to B’s chin. After years at this, they knew the ache of homesickness that could come over you on the multi-week journey - especially when you were tired, cold, hungry, and all you wanted was your warm bed and a roof over your head. And being sick on top of it all couldn't help matters.

Suddenly, they've got an idea. “Well then. Since you’re in such a hurry, you better have a plan in mind. What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get back?”

“M’ gonna….make pie. Blackberry.”

B nudges them. “What else?”

“Take a bath. Play with the dogs. Sleep in a bed.”

“Well then. That sounds like a great plan. Keep thinking about that.” B looks up as C comes closer, and extends a woolen hat towards the pair.

“Figured A could use this,” they murmur quietly as B gratefully tugs it over A’s ears. “It’s gonna be another brisk one tonight.”

B grunts softly in agreement, looking down at A’s pale face as their eyelids blink more slowly, fighting sleep, tufts of hair poking out from under the hat.

“Home,” A mumbles again.

B squeezes A tighter. “I’ll get you home, bud. Don’t you worry.”

“No,” A mumbles. “With you. Home for now.”

B convinces themselves that the campfire’s the root of their watery eyes and tightened throat as A drifts off to sleep, cradled and warm in arms that hold them the whole night.

#this turned into absolute fluff #dentists do not recommend #sickfic #fever #whump prompt #delirious whumpee #hurt comfort #caretaking #medieval whump #kinda?#idk it’s not modern day #so do with that what you will #also literally started this thinking #“I’m gonna keep this one short!!!#L O L #my writing

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bokutoslittlebird · 3 years

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Family Vacation

Bokuto x reader x Akaashi

Author’s Note : no incest, I promise ; the request included some slight BokuAka interaction, however I made it more than slightly ; the hot springs resort is loosely based on three different locations under the Kinosaki Onsen in northern Hyogo [Mikuniya Ryokan, Yutouya Ryokan, Nishimuraya Ryokan]. Each one offers different things, but they all have some common aspects that I liked: seafood served during winter months [November - March], traditional ryokan, and options for the hot springs [indoor, outdoor, and family] ; holy fuck is this wrong.. but holy hell is it erotic

Warnings: introduction of the Bokuto family, best friends to lovers au, playful teasing [about reader’s virginity], some mlm [Bokuto x Akaashi] interaction, fingering, face-sitting, handjob, blowjob, cum eating, spit exchanges and mentions, no penetrative sex, virgin!reader, virgin!Bokuto

“Oh, [Y/N]! I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Thank you for having me, Bokuto-san,”

“Oh, dear, call me Fuyumi! You’re practically family, anyways,” she smiles, eyes crinkling as she does. Her smile makes you smile, bowing in respect as if you haven’t known her for years.

The Bokuto family always spent their winter vacation before New Years at an Onsen in Hyogo. Yasurai-fukurou was well known for their hot springs throughout the year, but their meals included seafood in the winter. Kōtarō and Shinjiro both love seafood, especially crab, so it made sense the Bokuto family would come to this place specifically. Winter meant snow, and snow meant the garden view from the spring was gorgeous, having the silver lining the green foliage as the pebbles along the ground glistened with melted snow, cold and slippery. It was Kōtarō’s and Machiko’s favorite season, so it was an added bonus. The family had the money to spend, treating the members to a relaxing trip. Even Keiji, Kōtarō’s friend, joined them his first year at Fukurodani.

You didn’t usually attend, yet you always wanted to. Your family celebrated holidays differently, so you often found yourself swamped with family activities around December, only getting free to hang out by the time school started back up. Always wishing to go, you finally got your wish this year. With the stress from school this past semester, your family decided to let you choose what to do, so you declined spending the holidays with your family. Instead, you were free to spend that quality time with the Bokuto family. Fuyumi practically begged Kōtarō to invite you, knowing you’d be alone, so you didn’t have to worry about inviting yourself. There was one problem, however.

“[Y/N] should room with us!” Machiko points out. “She can’t board with boys!”

“What do you take us for? We’re her best friends,” Kōtarō waves off his sister. “I worry Amaya might try to wrestle her,”

“She could use the practice!” She pipes up, only to be shut back down. “I wouldn’t hurt her,”

“Why not let the girl choose herself? It is where she will stay, in the end,” Shinjiro said. Although he was right, you suddenly felt your heart tugging in two different directions. Machiko and Kōtarō gave you the puppy dog eyes, begging to choose them. A heavy sigh came from you as you weigh the options presented in front of you.

“I trust Keiji and Kōtarō, I’ll room with them,”

“No!” The two girls dramatically shout, falling to their knees. Fuyumi laughs, patting your back.

“Good choice, dear,” she compliments. You know why. Her daughters may be considered mature and adults, but they are both hectic and chaotic in their own way. At least with Kōtarō, he has Keiji with him. There’s no reason to mull over the decision, you know full well that Keiji and Kōtarō wouldn’t hurt you.

Once settled into each room, your bedding laid between the two of them, the trip to relax in the ryokan was in order. The two genders were separated, of course, so you sat in the spring with Machiko, Amaya, and Fuyumi. It wasn’t a bad thing, being with the three, but you knew Machiko and Amaya like to tease you.

“Gosh, [Y/N], you’re so innocent! You’ve never done anything?” Amaya’s face made it seem like she was much more malicious than on the surface. “Even I had a couple boyfriends that I had special adventures with before your age,”

“Excuse me? Amaya!” Fuyumi scolds her daughter. “You never told us this,”

“Why would I? You and dad never allowed me to have a boyfriend until I graduated. Kōtarō even had a girlfriend in his second year,” she pouts, puffy cheeks making her less malicious and much more adorable. Though unintentional, her words make your mood sour, Kōtarō’s slipping from her lips. Machiko notices this, however.

“Well, Kōtarō is a boy and I told your father to make sure he doesn’t do any of that dating stuff, but it seems like he did,”

“You know, I’m kind of tired. I’m really relaxed,” you mention, moving to exit the water. “I should lay down and take a nap,”

“Oh, are you sure? Dinner will be served soon,” Machiko holds out her hand, as if to stop you. You’re quick about getting out, rinsing yourself off before wrapping a robe around your naked body.

“I’m sure. Wake me when dinner’s ready,” you cheerfully smile, waving to them as you leave the setting. Your smile falls, an artificial thing as you continue to pad towards the room. Passing the window leading to the garden, you notice the cascading of the white snowflakes, shimmering in the light from the outdoor lamps. It’s peaceful, the way it floats down to the ground until it rapidly melts, joining the slush forming on the pathway. A sigh leaves you, heart aching from the words Amaya let spill.

It wasn’t her fault, you tell yourself that as you continue to the room. Amaya doesn’t know, but Machiko does. Machiko has always had the older sister intuition, knowing when her younger siblings had something to hide or something embarrassing. Whether it was from her years of travel around the world, or just a trait of hers, she could pinpoint things that made you want to crawl in a hole. What does Machiko know, exactly? Your big, fat crush on her little brother.

Kōtarō has been your crush as long as you’ve known him, aka since you guys were waddling around with chubby legs. Your family and his family live near each other, so it made sense for you two to play a lot as children. As the years passed, your admiration for him evolved into a crushing thing, yet your young mind wouldn’t allow such a horrid thing to be spoken. No, it festered until you broke down one day in high school and confessed to the dark of the night, the only witness of your confession was the moon. You confessed that you loved him, you were in love with him, nobody else could compare. It hurt even more now, knowing you were falling in love with him while he was loving someone else. Even Keiji probably loved Kōtarō, knowing how close they were. You wouldn’t put it past them to be in a relationship, either. Each thought accompanied a step you took, each one bringing tears to prickle your eyes as you finally shut the door to the room, and your problems.

With the dark encompassing the room, you found yourself easily situating yourself on the ground to cry, curling up in a ball as you did so. A pathetic scene, you knew it was, yet you couldn’t help yourself.

After you left the ryokan, Shinjiro happened to be talking to the boys in front of him, both of them flushed red from the warmth of the bath and the topic at hand.

“I knew something was off in the way your mother encouraged you to invite her! I never thought it’d be that, however,” his guffaw had Kōtarō sinking into the water, bubbles coming from his nose as he huffs. Keiji looks at him pitifully, but doesn’t do much of anything else.

“She doesn’t even like me like that. This trip was a mistake,” Kōtarō mumbles, his mouth going back under the water. Keiji sighs, looking into the water where his distorted hands lie. Before he can speak, Kōtarō beats him to it. “I have to go to the bathroom. I think I’ll leave early,”

“You sure it’s just that?” Shinjiro teases. “Or are you going to wait for your lovely friend?”

“Okay, maybe it’s a bit of both,” he huffs, cheeks puffed out. Keiji lets the words die on his tongue, letting Kōtarō leave the spring without any reason to look back.

Shinjiro sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks into the water. “Maybe I went too far. I shouldn’t tease him about his crush, it seems like it’s important to him. I don’t think she sees him in that light, anyways,”

“She does, actually. I think she’s been in love with him for a while,” he confesses. Shinjiro’s eyebrows rise as the words sink in. However, he is quick to understand. No longer laughing and joking, his smile is more bitter and sad. A pity smile.

“And you’ve been in love with her, haven’t you?”

Keiji turns his head to the side, yet he nods. The red dusting his cheeks is no longer just the warmth of the water. Shinjiro moves closer to Keiji, putting his hand on the younger man’s back.

“Then tell her. You both need to confess, not let this fester and turn into something ugly. Don’t let this ruin your friendship with Kōtarō, either. It’s not worth it,”

“I know. I know, Bokuto-san,”

“When you gonna call me Shinjiro? Or even dad? You need to let loose, Keiji!” He laughs again, getting Keiji to crack a smile.

While Keiji ponders how he should go about this, Kōtarō trudges up to his room for the week, unaware you’ve also turned in early. His mood has taken a turn for the worse, hair deflating as he pouts. No matter what, he’s always found himself finding your validation to be the most important. Throughout the years, he’s reached out to both you and Keiji for validation, finding them both to be important to him. While he knows Keiji partially does it just to make him happy, which he is thankful for, he knows yours is genuine. Even when he forced himself to move on, knowing you didn’t see him in that light, he found it hard. You followed him into his dreams, gleeful chimes of your laughter as the future he aims for bloomed into an obtainable goal. Yet, he’d wake up to see the empty space beside him, a brutal reminder that his dreamt future would stay in his head, playing on loop until he could do something about it in the real world.

When his door comes into view, he sighs, relief flooding through him. As he gets closer, he hears a soft voice from inside. Leaning his ear against the shut door, he hears you — a squeak of his name, accompanying a soft mewl, most likely held back due to the thin walls. Even he understands what you’re doing, it’s not like he’s never thought of you that way, finding himself wishing you could relieve his stress in the best way possible. As to respect your privacy, and settle his nerves, he quietly creeps away, to his parent’s booked room. He decides to use the toilet in there, giving you a few moments to finish your own business.

Leaning against the door once more, he doesn’t hear your heavy breaths or your moans and mewls, so he slides open the door to see you under the covers, laptop shining in your face as a movie plays. “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“Huh?” You jump, turning to see Kōtarō’s large frame at the entrance of the room. It’s scary, the way he seems to have popped up after you finished, or attempted, getting off on thinking of him. “Oh, Kō. It’s just you. No more hot springs for you?”

“Oh, no, I found it to be getting too hot,” he lies, rubbing his neck. The robe you’re wearing is the one you put on after exiting the spring, so his perverted little mind knows you’re completely naked underneath. Not only that, you’re probably nice and slick from thinking about him—

He stops himself, hearing your voice. “Did you hear me? I asked if you wanted to watch the movie with me,”

“Oh, sorry, off in my own world. Uh, sure, what is it?”

“Crown for Christmas. A sappy romance Christmas movie, from America. It’s very predictable, but it’s cute. My mom loves it, so I brought it to watch,”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” he hums, lying on his own bedding. He didn’t move closer to you, giving you some space, but he finds himself panicking when you move closer.

“Can’t see if you’re all the way over there, dummy,” you giggle, pressing play. He can’t find it in himself to focus, the movie being background noise to his thoughts. The hot springs help to add a special glow to your skin, making it seem smoother than before, and you smell so nice, not to mention he can feel his cock throbbing at your soft voice calling out his name. What would it be like if he used his own fingers, would you be able to hold back? Or would you come completely undone as you came on his fingers— even better, his cock? Just the thought has him groaning, head shoved into his pillow as you pause the movie, probably confused.

He looks up, seeing your dazed expression — yep, totally confused. He sighs and shrugs, apologizing. “Are you okay? You seem.. tense,”

“Tense?” That’s one way to describe it, he supposes. “I’m just.. dad was teasing me earlier. That’s why I left. I’m.. remembering what he said,”

“Oh, I get that. Amaya kept teasing me about girl stuff, so I left. Machiko tried to stop me, but I was already out of the water,” you admit. It’s not the full truth, but that’s okay.

“Girl stuff? Like what?” Kōtarō never shied from girly stuff, including the weird stuff that happened to girls like puberty and the menstrual cycle. You chalked it up to his older sisters being shameless, never making it seem gross. Even when you started your period in class, Kōtarō was there to help you, a knight in shining armor.

You wish they were less shameless.

“Oh, um, you know, the romantic stuff,”

“Like? Boyfriends?”

“Yeah, I’ve.. never had one. No experience on my end. Amaya was teasing me because she had a couple of boyfriends before my age, so it.. it didn’t hurt my feelings, but it made me feel some kind of way, you know?” Your attempted explanation was kind of butchered, trying to explain it without giving too much detail. Kōtarō wouldn’t judge you, of course not, it wasn’t something to judge you about.

He knows the feeling, being inexperienced.

“W-Well, if you want any experience before going into the dating scene, I could.. always help you,” he whispers. His words hang in the air, settling into both of your minds. He’s berating himself for using such a lame line to try and get in your pants, but you’re trying to find a way to say yes without seeming desperate. However, “I mean! I have experience, so I could help you! I’d say I’m pretty good at doing stuff. Oh! It could be like.. any advice or something.. hands on,” he whispers the last part again, his confidence melting like snow on a summer’s day when your face falls.

It isn’t you don’t want it, you just would prefer him to not word it like that. It reminds you of Amaya’s words and the pain in your chest, the churn in your stomach. “If you’re gonna be like that, maybe I should ask Keiji,” you huff, turning your body away from his. Focusing on forcing your stomach to stop twisting in knots, you don’t even notice when Kōtarō closes the laptop and presses himself against you. Well, not until you feel something pressing into your back. “Kō—”

“Don’t be like that. I’ve never actually gone all the way, I’ve been saving that for someone special. I can help, though, if you’d let me,” his breath fans over your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His arm snakes under you, pulling you into his stomach while he lays on his back.

“Kōtarō!”

“You’re stressed, gotta loosen up a bit. I’m helping,” he just says, making sure your legs are hooked over his. With the lack of clothing under the robe, your nether region is spread open towards the door, sending your adrenaline skyrocketing. Kōtarō is quick to ease that, his thick fingers spreading open your folds while his middle finger rubs against your sensitive clit. “You’re absolutely soaked, do I turn you on that much?” He’s grinning, you know he is. Gritting your teeth, you keep your mouth closed as you focus on the feeling of his fingers, now sliding up and down and collecting your slick.

Kōtarō doesn’t want to tease you for too long, slipping his middle finger into your cunt as you mewl, hand coming to cover your mouth. “What a reaction. I wonder..” he trails off, pulling his finger out, only to add in three fingers. You’re arching, legs tending against his as he fingers you, lips pressing themselves to your hair and ear. When his tongue flicks out against your ear, you squirm and he grunts, his left arm keeping you firm against him. “Sensitive, are you?”

He doesn’t get any vocal confirmation from you, but the way you’re clenching around his fingers tells him all he needs to know. He makes sure to keep his thumb bumping against your clit, adding pressure. You can feel the familiar feeling, the beginning of an orgasm as he pumps his fingers into you. With a squeal of his name, your nails dig into the meat of his arm, liquids spilling out of you and all over Kōtarō’s fingers. The squishing sound enters your ears, legs tensing as you mewl, his fingers rubbing themselves against you some more.

“You’re so wet.. I bet it’d be easy to slip my cock in there, wouldn’t it?” His voice is low, a rumble in his chest as your cunt clenches at the thought, your wildest fantasies so close to coming to fruition when someone clears their throat. You pop up, Kōtarō jolting and keeping you on his chest as he moves.

Keiji is looking at the both of you, a heavy blush adorning his cheeks. The room is dim, only the lights from outside the inn illuminating him. He’s right at the door, right in front of where Kōtarō was just fingering you. Kōtarō’s hand finally leaves from between your legs, glistening wetness shown in the lamplight. “If you want to give her experience, you need to go over everything involved in foreplay, Kōtarō. There’s more to prep,”

“M-More?” your voice is small, barely a whisper as you find more slick oozing from you, Keiji entering the room. He kneels down in front of you, still held against Kōtarō’s chest.

“Has he even kissed you, yet? Or did he go headfirst into fingering you?” When you shake your head, Kōtarō himself sucking in a breath, Keiji knows he was right. With the elegance he always exudes, Keiji tilts your chin up towards him. “Then, allow me,”

The kiss is gentle, yet not simple. His lips are firmly against yours, molding perfectly as he keeps your chin tilted. As he deepens the kiss, you find your hands grasping at his own robe, feeling yourself lighter than you were when you had entered the room. Keiji moves to pull away, a brisk kiss on your lips once more before swiping his tongue over your bottom lip, sending heat all over your body.

“Akaashi..” Kōtarō whines, his grip on you tightening. “This is supposed to be my time with her,”

“Well, you’re going too fast. Why not elongate the time spent together, hm?” His voice sends tingles down your spine, his hands removing you from Kōtarō’s grasp. “Lay back, Bokuto-san. You’ll get your turn,”

Your brain is going haywire as he speaks, undoing Kōtarō’s robe with unconscious grace. He’s not doing it on purpose, you know he isn’t, it’s just how he is. Once Kōtarō has been disrobed, you find more heat springing to your cheeks as his muscles ripple and flex. The lack of light prevents you from seeing everything, but you’ve always found yourself insatiable when thinking of his broad frame and what hides under his clothes.

“Give me your hand, [Y/N],” Keiji’s voice has you coming back down to earth, yet you find yourself once more shy with Kōtarō’s legs spread, his cock heavy and so large in Keiji’s hand. You comply, though, your much smaller hand joining Keiji’s around Kōtarō’s girth. It’s so much, the way it feels and the heat of the skin under your fingertips. A soft groan comes from Kōtarō as Keiji moves his hand, his other hand shuffling you between his legs.

“This is called a handjob, [Y/N],” Keiji says. You nod in understanding, realizing he’s teaching you. “Moving your hand up and down the shaft is the basic function of it, but you can also use your fingers to tease the slit, like so,” he demonstrates, swiping his thumb over the small slit, puffy and red where Kōtarō’s cum is dripping from. The simple act has Kōtarō throwing his head back, moaning as his hand covers his mouth. The walls are thin and if his family is back, they probably have a good idea of what’s going on.

“I see,” you hum, continuing to move your hand up and down the shaft. Keiji nods, seeing you’re understanding.

“Or tease his balls, like cupping them or massaging. Don’t squeeze them hard, though. It won’t feel very nice,” his hand moves to cup and tease Kōtarō’s balls, the man himself laying on his back as his face turns red, the ministrations getting to be too much. “There’s also a blowjob, but we can teach you that next time,”

“N-Next time??” You squeak, jumping a bit. Whether it was a one time thing or the beginning of a relationship didn’t cross your mind. His words, however, seem to please you more than imaginable.

“Of course, darling. We’re not done here, either. Why don’t you let Bokuto-san show you what other kinds of pleasure he can give you?” At Keiji’s words, Kōtarō pops up with a bright smile on his face.

“Sit on my face, baby,”

“Oh, woah, wow, uh..” you stop, unsure how to politely decline. His mouth and nose, down there? Not to mention your weight on his head? You were sure he’d regret his decision. “I don’t think”

“I’ll be fine. C’mon, I gotta show you what else my mouth can do besides dirty talk,” he winks, sending more heat to your cheeks, making you feel rather hot for a winter’s day, clad in only a robe. Keiji seems to read your mind, taking your robe from your shoulders, the belt falling undone easily from the previous activities. Once you’re down to your birthday suit, Keiji presses a kiss to your shoulder blade, a whisper to go that sends you crawling closer to Kōtarō’s face. He grins, eagerly taking your thigh and placing it on the other side, keeping your drenched cunt close to his face. He says something, but only a muffled noise comes out, his tongue swiping along your folds.

With your back to him, Keiji wishes he told you to face him and watch, yet he finds the scene of you erotic. He may have a bit more expertise than you and Kōtarō, it seems that’s all that’s needed. He smiles, gaze catching on the way Kōtarō’s fingers dig into the fat of your thigh, making indents. Completely forgotten, Keiji spits a glob onto Kōtarō’s cock, him jumping at the feeling. With a few more pumps of his hand, he flicks his tongue against the head.

Kōtarō’s moan has you mewling, the sound acting as a vibration as your fingers tug harshly on the silver and black strands. Though not as long as they were in high school, there’s enough to grasp and pull on. The wet sounds from behind you has your head turning, eyes falling on Keiji’s mouth wrapped around Kōtarō’s cock. It’s an erotic scene, his head moving up as more of the length is revealed, his blue eyes settling on your own as you feel a nip down below. So focused on Keiji, Kōtarō wants your attention all on him. Keiji chuckles, almost like a hum, that vibrates around the cock in his mouth that has Kōtarō moaning.

The tongue that flicks against your clit has you squirming, restrained mewls and moans leaving your lips as hands tug on his locks. Kōtarō licks and suckles on your clit occasionally, then moves down to prod and swipe over your entrance. The position makes it easy for him to breathe, but he moves down further. New position has you squealing, hands flying to your mouth as you squeeze your eyes shut to focus on the pleasure. Another moan from Kōtarō that sends shivers down your spine, heat to your core, accompanying the obscene noises of Keiji sucking Kōtarō off.

With Kōtarō’s nose bumping against your clit, his tongue’s only focus is on your pretty little cunt, sucking and swirling his tongue. The sensitivity from earlier makes quick work of you, hunching over as your thighs tighten around Kōtarō’s head, his strong hands keeping you from hurting him as you gush all over his face. A moan comes from him as he laps at your juices spilling over his face, his own orgasm coming as Keiji takes him down as far as he can. Globs of white cum spurt from the side of Keiji’s mouth, a gagging sound as he struggles to swallow it.

A hand on your shoulder has you leaning back, falling against Keiji’s chest with his cheeks puffy. Kōtarō manages to look up at the scene, gaze fuzzy as he watches Keiji kiss you once more, cum seeping from where his lips meet yours. When Keiji pulls away, his tongue is out, pushing the dripping cum into your mouth where the rest lies. It’s enough to have Kōtarō hard once more, a dark and heavy blush settling across his cheeks and nose.

The thick appendage pressing into your back once more has you gasping and jumping, some cum spilling out your mouth and down your chest. As it travels between the valley of your breasts and over the perk nipples, Keiji takes it upon himself to lap at the milky droplets. You gulp down the rest in your mouth, making a show of it by tilting your head up, throat contracting as you swallow it all. Kōtarō finds himself unable to look away from the scene.

“Ah, seems like someone’s still raring to go,” Keiji breaks the silence, eyes glancing back to look at Kōtarō’s cock, once more standing tall and proud. He then looks to you. “Shall I let you handle this one alone?”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #Mr. Kōtarō #Mr. Keiji #BB.Kinky #bokuto x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi smut #bokuto smut #BokuAka #bokuaka x reader #cw.cum play #cw.semi public sex #tw.semi public sex #cw.spit

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sidespromptblog · 3 years

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The Accident

Warning: Medical scene, mention of broken bones, blacking out (once mentioned), cast, and Logan angst.

Summary: While out on a date with Remus and Janus, Logan falls and hurts his wrist.

Word Count: 1,631

“Are you sure that it’s alright?” Janus asked suspiciously, as his cold fingers gingerly touched the tinder flesh of Logan’s wrist. His eyes were narrowed as if he was already on high alert to see if Logan was going to dare even lying about something like this.

“It looks a little swollen,” Remus helpfully added, circling around them like a wild hyena protecting his little pack, his eyes barely stood still long enough to even get a glimpse of Logan’s wrist.

But when he did, without a moment’s worth of hesitation…

He cringed every time.

That should have told Logan everything he needed to know about the situation. Remus wasn’t making jokes, and was well past being worried. Janus was using his literal body as a shield so that no one could even dare to get close, and there wasn’t the slightest bit of sarcasm coming from him. Logan should have been more worried about the state of his wrist, in his writing hand no less. But all he could feel was the sharp throbbing of where Janus’ grip was, and the occasional fleeting touch from where Remus would look over his shoulder and down at his injury.

Stupid.

He had been so stupid.

Of course there would still be patches of ice, even with the weather being over the standard freezing of thirty-two. The wind chill matched with it being later time of day should have made it obvious, he had been too careless. Too…

Stupid.

“Logan?” Remus’ worried voice struck up again, as he took up the position on his other shoulder. “You’re not going to black out again are you?”

Ah yes, that one moment of pitch darkness the moment his head had connected with the frozen sidewalk. He doubted that any of them wanted to recall that, especially given the way that Janus had screamed and he had come to being cradled in Remus’ arms like a limp noodle.

Swallowing thickly Logan attempted a smile. “It hurts,” He honestly said, because what was the point in lying with a human lie detector right in front of him. “But, I’m sure that once we return back to Thomas’ mind, the injury will go away. Just like they’ve done before in the imagination… right?”

An uncertain whine curled in Remus’ throat, like he was a dog that had been left chained outside on a rainy day.

That alone told Logan that even he wasn’t exactly sure just how much the imagination could and couldn’t cure.

“No.” Janus firmly shook his head, “If we don’t know then there’s no use in going back and just causing you more pain. We’ll…” Here Janus grimaced just a little bit, the scales in his face shifting into something more socially acceptable. “We’ll have to take you to the hospital for an X-ray…”

Two groans accompanied this declaration.

It was almost three hours later that Logan was able to see the doctor in question.

But by far the most annoying and anxiety inducing tribulation was the fact that he had to be separated from the other two sides when he needed to have the X-ray done. Which he had known going in, of course he had known it. But knowing it and actually having to do it we’re two entire different things. When it had come to him leaving the mind space, he had never been alone. Usually he’d had Thomas, or some of the other sides to accompany him on his days out and to be without them for some terrifying and quite painful procedure, was… scary.

He was scared, and also quite a bit embarrassed about the whole ordeal.

Sitting back in the doctor’s office with both Janus and Remus on either side of him waiting for whatever news was to come, made him feel both worse and better at the same time.

“I’m sorry.” He finally mumbled, a bolt of shame ramming itself into his guts.

A part of him wasn’t even sure what to be sorry for, but another part deep and loathing knew exactly what he was apologizing for.

Janus who had been staring ahead at the posters decorating the walls immediately snapped his attention back to Logan, his brows furrowing for a moment before an unreadable expression took over his face. It was an expression that both Remus and Logan knew all too well. “Sorry?” Janus asked, his voice carefully clipped. “For what might I ask.” Having just started he shifted his entire body to face Logan. “For having an accident? For slipping? For falling? For doing something that wasn’t your fault to begin with?”

Behind him Remus cringed back, they both knew what was coming.

“I ruined our day.” Logan tried to argue, trying being the key word there.

Just for Janus to immediately shake his head, his cold fingers seeking out Logan’s cheeks and cupping them carefully enough to avoid the scrapes on his face. The look on his face was adoring and yet exasperated at the same time, as his eyes watered but no tears seemed to fall in Logan’s presence.

“You,” Janus choked out, “Didn’t ruin anything. We can always have another day, hopefully with you being hurt a little less. It’s okay Logan… I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Behind him Remus dug his fingers into the fabric of Logan’s thick winter coat as he buries his face into the logical side’s neck. His bristly whiskers tickled as he merely held Logan in place, bestowing all the love he could possibly give to him.

A laugh then shook Remus’ middle, “Hopefully Thomas has insurance.” His muffled voice finally got out.

And just like that the other two sides were tearfully giggling, knowing that thanks to Virgil’s worrywart tendencies Thomas had the best possible medical insurance he could get. And whether Logan knew it or no, which he did, he was technically going to be committing insurance fraud simply by the fact that he looked so much like Thomas.

Almost another several hours later though, with a dark blue cast now seated on his hand and wrist with the instructions to come back in a months time it was time to go home.

“So,” Remus popped the word out of his mouth, as he took up the duty of spoon feeding Logan some ice cream before they actually had to go back. “What are you going to tell the others, you know… about the cast and everything?” There was a quick glance shared between him and Janus. “The truth?”

It took genuine effort to not snort in Remus’ face after swallowing his mouthful of ice cream, and by a lot of effort it obviously meant that he coughed right into the crook of his arm in an attempt to hide it.

“No.” Logan answered back almost immediately, “Are you kidding me?! Virgil would never let me leave the house again if I came back looking like this. Roman would more than a little bit blame you. Patton would go along with it, in an effort to keep me ‘out of harm’s way’, and Thomas would just be concerned.” He gestured with his newly casted arm, they all knew that if it was discovered that Logan had left to go on a date with Janus and Remus, and had come back with a broken wrist they would be dramatic as possible when it came to any future dates with the dark sides.

He wouldn’t allow that.

Janus hummed as he nodded his head, his lips twisting just a little at the unpleasant thoughts that came with the scenario that Logan had just explained. “So what are you going to do?”

Surely Logan couldn’t just hide in his room until a month passed, and then get the cast off.

“I’ll just stay in my room until it’s time to get the cast off,” Logan shrugged, “I’ll put a sticky note on the door saying that I’m working on a big project and I don’t want to be disturbed. They usually listen to my sticky notes, a lot better than me since there’s no actual listening involved.”

“Are they threatening, these sticky notes?” Remus teased.

Instead of replying to his teasing with a retort Logan merely rolled his eyes, grabbing the front of Remus’ shirt to pull him in for a short sighted kiss.

“You know,” Remus mumbled in between kisses, “You can just stay with us right? The couch is always open for you, and so is any of our bedrooms.”

Logan pecked one last kiss on the corner of the creative side’s mouth, a warmth stirring in his chest at the offer of another place to stay if he wished to.

But…

It would be easier to recover in his own bedroom without Janus’ or Remus’ room effecting him in anyway, and recovering from a broken wrist on the couch didn’t exactly sound like fun to him.

“I know Rem,” The warmth he felt blossomed onto his face as a loving smile. “And rest assured you and Janus will see me in this month. But my room is probably easier for me.”

Satisfied with his answer, Janus nodded as he threw away the plastic spoons and cups that they had been eating from. Finally ready to head on back to the mind space, as both he and Remus held tight to Logan’s hands on the way back. It’d be a while before they could go on another date again, and maybe a little bit longer before it was anywhere in the wintertime again. But that was okay, because he could wait.

So with him lovingly holding onto the blue cast that kept Logan’s broken hand safe from the world, Janus felt at peace for the first time since the accident.

Everything would be okay.

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dirge-of-valentinex4 · 2 years

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Vincent felt that he had adjusted (more or less) to life post-coffin, especially now that the events of Sephiroth’s brief return, and the discovery of Deepground, were all over and the world was returning to normal.

It had taken him some time to shed the moth eaten cloak, the leather pants, and the gauntlet (although he did keep them all, as some sort of reminder), but he had, at his own pace, switched back into suits. Dark charcoal tactical suits, with red accents: ties, pocket squares (because he was a Valentine and couldn’t help himself), cufflinks.

The hair hadn’t been as hard to lose as the clothes; one day it had been as long and shaggy as an unshorn sheep and the next, sheared and sleek as the sheep’s dog. Reeve wisely said nothing to his face about any of the slow changes back to humanity, but he said plenty about it to Marie, his secretary.

“I only wish I could get him to be more sociable, to make more friends. I can only do him so much good, and with the rest of the team scattered to the winds, I imagine he’s rather lonely, at night.” he’d said, casting a sideways glance at Marie.

Vincent needed someone bright and interesting to pull him out of his shell, but also someone who could accept his quiet nature and not try to change him. Edge was full of women but trying to find the right companion (not even necessarily for romantic purposes, but the man needed more varied friends outside of sour chain smoking Cid and equally taciturn Cloud) was going to be a challenge. Especially when Vincent didn’t want to try.

For Vincent’s part, he was well aware of Reeve’s intentions, and he was more than aware of the woman who did his secretary work. It was hard not to be aware of her and every time he saw her, something, some part of his cold dead heart gave a pathetic little throb. But as he constantly told Reeve (for the man was constantly haranguing him about it, subtly), no woman had any business being with a nearly seventy year old haunted dead man.

This usually devolved into a petty argument over the term ‘dead’, which Vincent secretly enjoyed.

But now it was drawing close to the winter holiday season and going down into the ruins in search of monsters and information was becoming more and more miserable. He was still finding mako spills and leaks from the reactors and his eyes always glowed brighter when he’d been slogging around in it.

Such was today. He’d not bothered cleaning up but had come straight to Reeve’s building from the ruins, suit splattered with mutant blood and fluids, muddy and damp from the wet snow falling, eyes glowing under brows as low and heavy as the clouds.

“Is Reeve in?” he asked, coming to a halt in front of her desk like an errant schoolboy, gaze some where just behind her.

Despite having gotten over his stupid and silly romantic sentiments that had gotten him (and probably every one else) into this mess, he was still a Valentine, and he still couldn’t meet her gaze, for fear his heart would do something silly.

@marie-dufresne

#marie-dufresne #I have no title ideas for this

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qm-vox · 3 years

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So You Want To Play A Fairest

(Portrait of Erin Peters by cantankerousAquarius. The character originally appeared in Night Horrors: Grim Fears, published by White Wolf; catch my take on her in New Avalon)

Previous Articles: So You Want To Play A Beast, So You Want To Play A Wizened, So You Want To Play An Elemental, So You Want To Play An Ogre, & So You Want To Play A Darkling

You ever wonder, flipping through a Monster Manual for D&D, or a Bestiary for Pathfinder, why nymphs and hags are both always, always, women? It’s older than you know. Dig into the sordid history of tabletops and you’ll find sylphs that Gary Gygax wrote, Chaotic charmers who use mind control to reproduce with non-sylph men; you’ll find the legacy of the matriarchal drow, who follow a mad goddess, and you’ll find the medusae, whose sexual dimorphism is so complete that their men are beautiful and can turn stone into people.

Dredge deeper and you’ll find the tales that Gygax and his wretched ilk based such creatures off of.

You ever wonder why we assign such powerful Gender to creatures of beauty and horror?

Fairest don’t. They know, every time they wake up from a nightmare that is also a wet dream. They know, every time they get hit on at the bar and have to decide how they’re playing this. They know, every time they look in a mirror and see not their own face, but the ten thousand horrors that made it beautiful.

If you are very patient, and lucky, and kind, they might tell you why.

If you aren’t, they may show you.

This article draws primarily on Changeling: the Lost and Winter Masques, as well as Swords at Dawn and Night Horrors: Grim Fears. Other sources, when used, will be cited. It requires Content Warnings for sexual violence, sexual slavery, abuse, gaslighting, addiction, substance abuse, self-harm, self-image problems, mentions of fascists & fascist ideology, and just, so very much incel bullshit.

Bonus Material Part Two: The Seeming Part

The end of this article, just past the customary Sample Fairest, will include some additional material intended to help you select a Seeming for your character and otherwise build them up as one of the Lost, much as So You Want To Run A Spring Court included material for Courts as a topic.

Take Me To Wonderland - Fairest Overview

Fairest is the fourth Seeming presented in Changeling: the Lost and possibly the most confused about its own identity. Its sections in Winter Masques present depths and nuance that are completely absent in core, essentially making Winter Masques required reading for Fairest players in a way that no other book is - especially since Fairest keep getting written in a particular way alluded to in the Ogre article, which I will expand on later in this article. Fairest is numerically well-represented in canon and popular in the fanbase, home to many memorable character concepts, but its bones with folklore and tradition are weaker than it fronts as.

Ogres and Darklings claim an innate relationship to physical violence; so too do the Fairest claim a relationship to violence. The violence of Perception and its dark twin, Judgement; of Rumor and its mad dog, Prejudice, the violence of Lies and their merciless master, Truth. Fairest, alone among the Lost, have casual access to the resources of a society that refuses to service or acknowledge Changelings, and with access to that society comes both opportunity and temptation. To be Fairest is to wield power that many other Lost cannot, but the opportunity that power offers is a lie; a Fairest can smile until her face breaks like a mirror, but she’ll never be “sane” enough for the masses to see her as anything but a useful pet.

Life’s Lush Lips - Homecoming As A Fairest

Fairest can make the dubious claim of having the least clear memories of Arcadia amongst all the Lost, with Darklings and Beasts jockeying for second place. This isn’t to say that the experiences Fairest have are necessarily more intense or more inherently traumatic than that of other Lost, but rather that the abuse Fairest suffer is so emotional, so targeted at their perception of their selves and their situations and their self-image, that the memories which do form are inevitably colored by those emotions, coloring the dreams they have of Arcadia with both the emotional resonances they had at the time and with their later attempts to grapple with their own trauma and transformation. For many Fairest, who cannot trust even their strongest memory dreams, attempts to understand their own Durance must rely either on the word of their Keepers (and Faeries lie, oh, how they lie), or on reverse-engineering their own behavior to try and conceive of a trauma that could cause it.

Inevitably, however, some things are seared into their minds. For almost all Fairest, their Keeper is high on the list of things they remember with absolute clarity. Other facts, shattered and scattered, vary more widely. Erin Peters remembers stretched years kept in a cold, dark room lit only by her own hatred; every detail of her cell is scorched onto the back of her eyes, but the otherworldly balls her Keeper took her to blur together like food coloring in syrup. The slaves of the Candle Countess have terrible nightmares of the choices they were confronted with, the decision, offered over and over again, to become complicit in the Countess’s cruelty or to be victimized by it. Metallic Flowering from the Shining City struggle not to use drugs to mimic the rush of pleasure they’ve grown used to receiving for performing their jobs well; they also scream in terror if people touch them. A Draconic and a Shadowsoul both remember being used for the sexual pleasure of alien horrors; the one dreams of coiled scales and terrible teeth, the other a lifetime of lurking in an alien maze, tasked to perform the duties of a living trap for the “wicked” and “unwary” who had not yet shed the last vestiges of kindness.

There are no “wild” Fairest. For worse and worse still, to be Fairest is to have been defined by the inescapable and all-consuming attentions of your abuser, and it is this more than anything that other Lost so often fail to understand about the Fairest. Their Keepers heap them with reward and punishment, manipulating the Fairest with honeyed praise, godly wrath, gaslighting, neglect, withholding food, wondrous rewards, drugs from beyond the realms of earthly pleasure, and other hooks and crooks designed to make the Fairest dependent upon their abuser. It is hideously effective, and the first obstacle, maybe even the mightiest, that a Fairest faces to their escape is the simple horror and joy of being alone again. Their masters will try other tricks to keep them in place - tempting them with pleasures, horrific punishments, oh-so-sincere apologies - but before a Fairest can escape into the Hedge she must face, in her mind’s eye, the lonely flight back to the Iron Lands.

The memories that draw Fairest home often have parallels to their experiences in Arcadia. A slave in the Shining City bites into an otherworldly pastry and recalls her grandmother’s pie in its place; the bride of the Demon Lover, curled up under the sheets, thinks about the broken smile of the boyfriend she left behind at home. A Dancer remembers the roller rink where he fell in love with skating, while across the endless tides of the Fairest of Lands, a Shadowsoul holds on like grim death to years of work at haunted houses, scaring kids for fun and for Halloween. Fairest, so famous for their skill at words, struggle to articulate to other Lost why this should be so. Darklings assume it’s because these memories are less intense than Arcadia, and that the Fairest are fleeing to safety. Beasts get it a bit more right by thinking that these memories taste like home. The truth of the matter is that those memories have an intrinsic and nameless meaning; the highs and lows of Arcadia are divine, flawless, absolute, and therefore worthless. They are the proclamations of merciless gods. What draws the Fairest home, more than pain and pleasure they can have on their own terms, is the understanding that those gestures - for weal or for woe or for anything else besides - were made because someone cared about them, personally. Once they fully internalize that their abuser views them as disposable, the Fairest comes home to someone who won’t.

Three Kiths And Flowering Is One And A Half Of Them - Fairest Kiths

Yeah we’re about to be like that about it.

All Fairest can excel in the social arena; their Blessing can be used to flare almost every social roll in the game, and Fairest can never be caught off-guard in a social context (they suffer no untrained penalties to social rolls). With the sole exception of Empathy (usually rolled with Wits) and sometimes Streetwise, there’s no time a Fairest can’t fall back on their words and expect to win through or at least buy time. This is, as you might imagine, a godsend when it comes to attempts to pass in mortal society; Fairest can usually front, charm, bluff, or Manners(tm) their way through things like renting an apartment, nailing a job interview, asking their roommate to do the FUCKING DISHES, or getting stopped by a cop, but both the books and the fanbase miss something here. While Fairest are superb at active social events, they’re no better at keeping a lid on themselves (Composure-based rolls) than mortals are - and given both the nature of their trauma and the fact that they are, you know, Lost, Fairest have a lot more to keep a lid on day-to-day than the human society they’re trying to blend into. Thankfully, Fairest are pretty good at being able to politely leave a situation and go somewhere else to scream, shout, cry, or have a psychotic break, as appropriate.

Of course, Fairest can’t make something from nothing. As discussed in So You Want To Play An Ogre, you can’t win a social game someone else refuses to sit down to, and social rolls shouldn’t be mind control. All the Glamour in the world can’t make your roommate do the FUCKING DISHES if they’re deep in the throes of executive dysfunction, nor can it make the cashier at Walgreens fail to card you for wine when their computer literally won’t advance without an ID. People who are keyed up about honeyed words or whose own trauma came at the hands of manipulators and abusers might refuse to play that game on the terms the Fairest is setting, which makes it hard to, as it were, turn this problem into a nail. Lurking down this path as well is the specter of becoming like the masters who made you this way; if you get used to saying what will get people to listen to you, eventually you start seeing people as enrichment puzzles that dispense the things you want. Madness waits down that road, and it waits for Fairest with a giant spiked bat, thanks to their Seeming Curse.

There’s no pretty way to say this so I won’t: Fairest are always on the verge of losing their minds. Their curse hits them with a flat penalty to all rolls against losing Clarity, which means that Fairest lose Clarity faster than other Lost and they do so more consistently. This necessitates a balancing act with avoiding becoming heartless manipulators; Fairest must engage in control-seeking behavior in order to stay mentally well, must be able to trust and rely on people close to them, structure their lives, and anticipate important changes or they end up on the fast way down. Other Lost often don’t understand this need or the Fairest curse to begin with, and so Fairest end up in unofficial support groups for one another, similar to those run by Darklings except no one will admit it’s a support group even at gunpoint. Woe fucking betide the friend or life partner who gets between a Fairest and her “book club”, “girls’ night”, “D&D campaign”, or other excuse for this vital community support.

Fairest Kiths are...bad. They’re bad. This is the part of the article where I’m supposed to talk about thematics and symbolism and metaphor, and I cannot do that here, because they are bad. Fairest has three viable Kiths that are actual Fairest Kiths, one that’s a Beast Kith who got lost and wound up here by fucking mistake, and a pile of garbage bigger than my self-esteem problems. I’m almost tempted to only talk about those four Kiths and save myself the time but I suppose I should show the work like I’ve done for all the other Seemings, so here we fuckin’ go I guess.

Flowering - This is it. This is the Fairest Kith. If you want to roll any other kind of Fairest you must first pass the trial of justifying why you’re not playing Flowering. In theory, Flowering draws its mythic heritage from nymphs and dryads, charming flower sprites, Knights of Flowers, and the like, but in practice Flowering’s only mechanical effect is 9-again on Persuasion, Socialize, and Subterfuge with no qualification or requirement, which doesn’t just make you better at everything Fairest is good at, it makes you better when you spend Glamour to flare it too. Want to represent a biobahn sith’s hypnotic dance? Flowering works. Want to create a vampiric Fairest with a sultry voice? Here comes Flowering. The siren at the bar who smells like sea air and gunpowder? Flowering. Everything is Flowering. Even the things that aren’t Flowering are Flowering because all Fairest Kiths have a social focus, which is Flowering’s undisputed arena of mastery.

Bright One - In theory, Bright Ones represent beings of light in the vein of Victorian fey (which...ugh...Victorians), but their Goblin Illumination is, how you say, useless, only becoming vaguely useful for a total of 2 Glamour as a passive defense that took you 2 turns to set up. Anything you want to represent here can be found in Flowering and with Elements or Communion (Light).

Dancer - You know how Flowering gives you bonuses on all social rolls? Would you like those same bonuses but on 1 less skill and only on rolls that “involve physical grace”? No? Run Flowering here and give your character a Dance specialty in one or more skills.

Draconic - One of the game’s premier melee options and a Beast Kith who took a wrong turn and ended up getting a free makeover intended for someone else. Draconic in theory represents Fairest as dragons, monster girls, demons, and in general at their most physical, but that idea sorta...falls down a bit? Draconic’s bonuses are all about Brawl and all the sample Draconics are swordsmen, which might suggest to the discerning reader that someone in the office wasn’t reading their own fucking game. Draconic Fairest don’t make bad melee boys if you invest in Lethal Mien, but honestly this is Dual Kith bait; slap it on your Hunterheart or your Razorhand and go apeshit.

Muse - Close but no cigar. In theory Muses are, well, muses; figures of inspiration, mentorship, teaching, creative fire. Their Kith Blessing is strong but requires access to mortals, which is complicated and roundabout on the best of days. If you have an idea that you think is Muse-shaped, use Playmate instead.

Flamesiren - Behold, we enter the realm of Okay(tm). Flamesirens are what Bright Ones wanted to be, and their hypnotic aura is actually a pretty neat tool; with cunning you can make it a one-sided penalty, and even if you don’t it’s an interesting method of de-escalating a social or combat situation by subjecting everyone to the tar pit that is your presence. If your concept involves light and color and you’re resistant to Flowering, Flamesiren will do more than nothing.

Polychromatic - Polychromatics don’t have a lot of roots in mythology; their modern inspirations are, well, Manic Pixie Dream Girls. But they get a shout-out here for being the only Fairest Kith who can muster up decent emotional defenses; not only can they magically boost their Composure rolls (and non-Composure rolls to resist magical and mundane emotional attacks for that matter), but others get a flat penalty to Empathy rolls against them, which makes them talented dissemblers. You’re still probably better off with Flowering - in a world of passive Kith Blessings, Polychromatic’s is extra passive - but I can see this Kith passing muster, and even being worth the two dots to Dual Kith in-house.

Shadowsoul - This one’s insane. Ostensibly Fairest Does Darkling, Shadowsouls get their Wyrd to Intimidate rolls which could be the whole Kith on its own and still be worth the slot, but in addition to that they get 9-again on Subterfuge (matching Flowering and Darklings there) and access to Contracts of Darkness, one of the most powerful in the game line, as an Affinity Contract. Is your Fairest spooky? Would you like them to be spooky? Here’s your one-stop shop.

Telluric - This is a Kith made of ribbon bonuses. In theory related to stars and celestial light, Telluric’s bonuses to rolls “with precise timing” isn’t...really worth considering. Run ‘em as Flamesiren and move on.

Treasured - In theory also able to muster emotional defenses, Treasured are Fairest who are literally made into works of art. They’re Okay(tm) but in their niche are beaten out by Polychromatic with a better effect for less resources.

Playmate - The last Real Fairest Kith(tm), Playmate appears in Night Horrors: Grim Fears where White Wolf tries to sell it as Peter Pan, but its powerful team-oriented bonuses mean that Playmates are useful anywhere Muse is wanted and more places besides. The front woman of an indie rock band could be a Playmate; so too could be an idealized baseball captain, the director at your local theater, the middle manager of a sinister conspiracy, or the night shift lead at a research lab. Do people do a thing in teams? Playmate does that thing.

And She Had Huge Titties, I Mean Massive Badondadonks, Absolutely Enormous Bazoggahoggas - Lost’s Canon Fairest

Remember when I said we had to get back to this after So You Want To Play An Ogre? Now we’re getting back to this. I’m not gonna re-state my caveats from that article and I’m not really gonna go back over the bit about So White Wolf Was Run By Fucking Nazis because, in all honesty, I do not have the fucking time to restate all of that in new words. Give thanks that OPP got out alive and let’s get right down to it.

Fairest have a very consistent characterization in canon that is only really challenged in Winter Masques; the narrative put forth in Lost is that Fairest, being attractive, have an uncomplicated power which privileges their lives. Which is a rather bloodless way to describe how White Wolf kept writing and publishing Fairest as heartless abusers and manipulators getting their jollies and emotional needs met by casually destroying their fellow survivors, manipulating them through sex appeal, outright lies, cattiness, cruelty, and betrayal. Much as simply queering Ogre does not help Ogre in and of itself, queering Fairest only takes you from incel and Nazi propaganda about women into...incel and Nazi propaganda about twinks, femmes, & in general anyone with the temerity to be found attractive by straight white people.

I’m not bitter, you’re bitter.

So what do you do at your table, with your Fairest concept? Lemme open up by saying that like, Fairest qua Fairest is perfectly solid, and if it wasn’t there wouldn’t be an article here; Fairest has a lot to say for itself about feminized violence, about your personhood being reduced to a product for the consumption of others, about emotional abuse & neglect, gaslighting, and sexual assault, but the conclusion White Wolf arrives at (”Fairest have unalloyed power over mortal and Lost society and they abuse that power”) is super fucking obtuse and betrays a serious lack of concern for what the Fairest undergo. It ignores the way a Fairest’s ordeals will force her to confront her relationship to her own gender and alter her willingness and ability to be consumed, disconnect her from her former society while also isolating her from her new one, and these questions are important for you if you’re looking to play a ‘classic’ Fairest.

But that leaves some hanging questions. Male Fairest face the almost inescapable fate of “failing” maleness on patriarchal terms; even the most strapping, broad-chested, athletic Adonis of a Fairest has become a man of layered words and reflexive empathy, whose Manly Stoicism(tm) is a cracking facade at best and entirely abandoned in a more typical circumstance. Men who become Fairest thus face a second journey after their escape from Arcadia; confronting what being men means to them and building their gender identity back up from the rubble it’s become. The temptation to accept success on society’s terms is always going to be present, and it’s always going to be offered like it’s possible, but it’s a losing game for these Fairest; they simply cannot be the men that other men demand they become.

Now, the discerning and loyal reader is surely about to ask, hey Vox, where’s the butch Fairest I was promised back in the Ogre article, to which I respond WE’RE GETTING THERE but I gotta use this as a bridge to talk about something that cuts across Fairest of all genders, be they cis or trans. Lost 1e makes a lot of hay out of the idea that Fairest “are rarely conventionally attractive”, and core even provides some interesting written concepts for that...which make it into exactly none of the art. Every published Fairest is conventionally attractive for various definitions of conventional, be it as a supermodel or a waif, but that leaves the question of Fairest who genuinely are not - and, tragically, Fairest who were not, and were then made into someone more easily consumed by their Durance. You know what I’m about to say, and I know you know I’m about to say it, but I’m gonna say it anyway: all bodies are beautiful, but Fairest know well that beauty and attraction aren’t the same, and neither are beauty and happiness. All Fairest, from the roundest bear to the most wide-eyed waif, are the products of Keepers who valued their bodies in that state, and that idea is going to haunt them day in and day out for the rest of their extended lives. There is no such thing as a Fairest with an uncomplicated relationship to their body, and that White Wolf seems to think that an uncomplicated relationship is their default state is...disgusting, frankly.

Which brings us, at long last, to butch Fairest (also bear Fairest but I’m gonna stick with the one set of terms or I’m going to go mad and this will never be published), who have a complicated journey ahead of them. On the one hand, the assertion of control and ownership over their own bodies, their own identities, cannot be overstated. On the other hand, elements of those bodies are going to be completely out of their control; a nascent butch Fairest may well hit the gym to get swole only to discover that she literally, physically cannot, that she has been Assigned Dex Build At Durance. Hauling your corpse out of Arcadia with an extremely feminine appearance shaped by your Keeper might complicate attempts to present in a more masculine manner or even just to appear androgynous, and those complications can be discouraging. For those that stick to it, this journey will take them two places; one is the bared-teeth, bloody-knuckled assertion that this life is theirs and you can have it if you can fucking take it, and the other is into the ranks of the Freehold’s retained warriors, usually in Summer or Autumn, though a vibrant representation of Spring knights will make it seem as if Spring has more butch Fairest than it actually does. These Fairest are aware, or will become aware, of how much of their job involves de-escalating or pre-empting violence; a focus on Physical stats or skills is not necessarily common, but hyper-specialization therein likely is. A butch Fairest is a lot more likely to have, say, Brawl 4 (Multiple Opponents) and no other Physical skills than she is to have Brawl, Weaponry, Athletics, and Stealth, in part or in whole because her first weapon of choice is going to be an Intimidate roll.

At every turn you’re able to, challenge White Wolf’s narrative about Fairest by asking yourself what your Fairest wants, why they’re this way, what they’re frightened of, and how the way they behave relates back to these. They’re not products; they’re people, just as hurt and Lost as the rest of their peers.

Princesses And Pastries - Fairest In The Courts

Fairest have a complex relationship to the society of their fellow Lost. On the one hand, they have the same need for community, support, companionship, understanding, honesty, and material aid as all Lost; a Fairest is not magically proof against being homeless, against starving, against the dangers of existing in the modern world without things like a photo ID or car insurance, and Freeholds provide all of these things. On the other hand, the thing most Fairest fear most, even if they can’t articulate that fear, is their own power - social influence, emotional trust and betrayal, status, political power, and authority. Fairest are all too aware that being good at this game does not make them immune to it - after all, that’s the lesson they learned at the hands of their Keepers.

What follows from this is a complex dance of interactions that each Fairest in some ways has to feel like she’s managing on her own, even if she’s not (and she rarely is; those support groups exist for a reason). If you give a Fairest a doughnut in a social setting, she will lick that doughnut even if she doesn’t intend to eat it right away, solely to hear someone else say something along the lines of “well it’s yours now”. As Fairest filter into Freehold society and take up social roles at all levels of power - officers, messengers, ‘ambassadors’ to mortal society, secretaries, pledge-smiths, teachers, monarchs - their responsibilities and rewards become their doughnut. That Fairest make a big deal out of both their job and the benefits that come with it is rarely, as other Lost sometimes think, about aggrandizement or reveling in power for its own sake; it’s about the sheer relief and assurance of hearing someone say, to the Fairest’s face, that this is her doughnut and no one is going to take it from her.

Younger Fairest tend to flit between two or three Courts; their initial selection may be based entirely on friendships, Vibes, or a gut-check decision based on an initial pitch by that Court, and Fairest can go quite far even in a Court that doesn’t quite actually fit their needs. Eventually, though, those Fairest who survive their youth will gravitate towards a Court whose ideals speak to them, even if its current social order isn’t living up to those ideals. If they’re going to be condemned to live as exiles in the world of their birth, the Fairest can at least be the person she wants to be, god damn it. Fairest aren’t any more or less vulnerable to a toxic Court environment than other Lost, but they’re good at detecting it beforehand. Unfortunately they’re also good at telling themselves they can change it.

Spring - Though early Spring joiners are of course rare in general, Fairest are among those Lost who more commonly choose Spring as a first Court. Spring’s highly social focus and chaotic internal organization is almost tailor-made for the skill set of your average Fairest, but therein too lies a sense of threat; for many Fairest, Spring can remind them of their Durance, and their joining of the Court is as much motivated by fear of a powerful cultural body as it is by any genuine Desire, maybe even more so. Many such Fairest end up caught in Spring’s middle-road trap, spinning their wheels without recovering or worsening more or less until they finally die, but when Autumn can sniff out the fearful ones it puts a lot of work into cooperating with Spring to get them out and where they can be helped.

Summer - More Fairest dabble with Summer for dreams of glory, or because they want to believe in Summer’s apolitical sales pitch, than ultimately stick with Summer. Those that do stay often serve as officers, as the Sun’s Tongue or the Arrayer of Distant Thunder, and as Court sorcerers. Fairest skilled in Contracts of Separation can make for surprising Jaegers, hounding their prey down more like a private investigator or a serial killer than a traditional hunter, but while striking this is fairly rare. Fairest who stick with Summer are those who are looking for its high ideals and are often among those rare Summer Courtiers who can competently articulate both those ideals and their pitfalls without falling prey to cynicism and bitterness.

Autumn - For those Fairest who hurt others to feel safe, Autumn is waiting. The Leaden Mirror can be attractive to young Fairest because it’s easy to perceive Autumn as atomized, defined by personal relationships rather than webs of political influence, but when the Fairest discovers those webs the existence of Option Two: Resort To Violence as an acceptable tool to the Ashen Court is perversely reassuring rather than threatening. The image of the Fairest as a witch, tempting and threatening, clings to them in Autumn but it’s honestly not their most common role; Autumn employs its Fairest as rumor-mongers, the Other Woman who seems a little too familiar with your husband, therapists & counselors, oneiromancers, and ambassadors to Hedge communities. The work Autumn does is harsh on Clarity, and Fairest are especially vulnerable to that harshness, but if the Court invests the time in helping its Fairest members, the self-awareness and self-confidence it offers can be a godsend that no other Court can give them.

Winter - As the Court which is actually selling what Fairest think Autumn has - to wit, the ability to simply say “no” to all social interactions with no justification required - Winter has a strong undercurrent of Fairest membership at all tiers of its power. Fairest often end up directly involved in Winter’s money-making enterprises, and flourish as Squires and Armigers with their fingers on the pulse of the Court’s morale. Winter’s hands-off approach displays a tremendous amount of trust in its Fairest from their perspective, and the demeanor of the Coldest Court - Winter’s indifferent equality - has a potent, merciless appeal. The trap of drowning in Sorrow sucks more than a few Fairest under, but if their peers can be there for them there’s always a way back out.

This Is Not A Pipe - Fairest And Lost’s Themes

My many thanks to Izzie M for her extensive help on this section. I’m not sure I’d have been able to grapple it down, emotionally or intellectually, otherwise.

Fairest go through some intense shit, and the shit they go through can never fully be addressed, never fully be recovered from. It’s no mistake that Fairest, like Wizened, are among those Lost likely to never fully gain resolution with or from their Keeper, and this is because they embody the dark truth that no matter how much progress you make, how much you heal, your trauma has changed who you are as a person and you will be dealing with it until you die. But, as alluded to extensively above in the discussion of Fairest and gender, Fairest also embody the way in which society will attempt to stamp you, mold you, turn you into a product to be consumed or an archetype to be placed into its churning machine, and its attempts to reshape who and what you are and can be are, in themselves, a form of trauma and abuse.

Fairest deal a lot in expectations. They’re expected to be perfect victims, they’re expected to be happy (because they’re beautiful and attractive, because they can front as Doing Okay, because they have a form of access to ‘normal’ society), they’re expected to want romance and sex (since everyone else wants those things out of them), to perform emotional labor, to be available, intimate, understanding, to keep up appearances. Fairest escape the chains of their Keeper only to be clapped in the chains that extend into the eyes and minds of their peers, and they cannot move without hearing the clink of them.

Fairest are primed to represent victims of ongoing emotional abuse and neglect; sex slaves and victims of child abuse might find themselves in Fairest, as might husbands or wives of abusive partners (and boy, re-living my bullshit there was a bonus prize I didn’t want to receive for writing this article), children pushed to over-achieve (here overlapping with Elemental) until they break, pastor’s daughters and cult kids (here overlapping with Beast), and others. However, Fairest also hit their thematic stride when talking about trauma from a society that will not give you an exit. A trans person is first punished by society for “failing” to perform their assigned gender, then made to perform their new one to expectations that they cannot set, do not control, and do not consent to; such a person might easily be Fairest, as might a man breaking under the expectations of Maleness, a college student losing their mind in finals week with no one to help, or even more ‘ordinary’ sex workers expected to perform emotional and physical labor for a society that rewards their work with violence and dehumanization.

Fairest are people with complex internal worlds and they damn well know it, but the temptations to let others define them are numerous; society promises all manner of rewards for being who and what it wants you to be, for wanting the things it tells you to want, for being the kind of person who wants and does those things. To be Fairest is to know at any time you can start faking it and receive those rewards insofar as they’re actually on the table, but it is also to know, every second of every day that you’re performing that role, that it is fake. If you can’t find a community with which you can be genuine...well. You can always get more hurt, and in this way Fairest also bring another theme of Lost into focus: that the Lost owe compassion and understanding to their fellow victims, because failure to care can only hurt both them and everyone in their blast zone.

Feet Pics For Legos - Coping As A Fairest

Fairest are among those Lost who are most concerned with their day-to-day social interactions and safety rather than their immediate, very physical environmental safety. They are perhaps the Seeming most likely to live in a group setting (in an apartment with roommates or romantic partners, in a house shared between multiple households, splitting the bills in a condo, with their parents), and are definitely the Seeming most comfortable with the idea of living with mortals who aren’t ensorcelled. Indeed, Fairest don’t tend to do well living alone; even a Fairest who wants or needs a private place to be, choosing to keep a home in which others cannot lay a claim, will likely crash at friends’ places, sleep over at the Freehold commons on some pretext or another, stay the night with a lover, or otherwise have a place to flop down while surrounded by other people. Having other people - their greatest reality check - around the place helps keep the Fairest centered in the real reality, better able to pick apart the mortal from the Wyrd from their own unrelated hallucinations, and a Fairest who is isolated - or who is permitted to isolate herself - quickly begins to dissociate and may soon be incapable of caring for herself until someone can get her back into the present.

Those invited over as guests to a Fairest’s home may note a lot of concern for those she lives with. She likely schedules the event well in advance, is clear about the boundaries of those she lives with (”That’s Brenda’s room, the door stays shut.”) and in general treats her communal home with a lot of respect and love. Respecting these boundaries and in turn having her own respected is very validating for the Fairest and is vital to be able to feel safe and at ease in her own home, and impressing their importance on guests further reinforces that this is, as it were, her doughnut. While not dismissive of their own literal physical safety per se, a Fairest’s anxieties rarely center around her body being violently attacked by strangers. For those that do have such anxieties, they may choose to solve that problem by simple expedient of rooming or living with someone large and scary.

Another detail of note which is touched on in Winter Masques is that Fairest tend to seek out life’s little pleasures. Though they are not necessarily wealthier than other Lost, how a Fairest chooses to spend her money tends to follow particular patterns. Rare is the Fairest who doesn’t have clothing they like, a phone that works, a wallet or purse that can actually hold all of their stuff, and in this regard most Fairest without a special interest in fashion as a hobby in and of itself will have an aesthetic that is self-expressive but serviceable and hard-wearing, but any place the Fairest haunts, frequents, or lives in will get little touches everywhere. Fairest spend the little bits of extra money for good toilet paper, soft soaps that won’t hurt the skin, good shower supplies, high-quality razors, boots that won’t wear through - and they spend their serious money on their hobbies and preferences. A Fairest with a passion for cooking scrimps and saves to get a fully-stocked kitchen; a Fairest who likes building and connecting invests in Legos or Hot Wheels and creates elaborate environments for them. A gamer Fairest has headphones that can vibrate your constipation away and a fiber optic connection to ensure that lag will not stand between her and your doom. The reasons for this are manifold, and Lost’s canon writing suggests that Fairest seek pleasure to alleviate a desire to return to Arcadia. This is, to put it mildly, a stupid assertion; rather, the Fairest provides her own pleasures in part because it is one of the most emotionally clear ways to lick the doughnut, and in part because it reminds her that she can be happy under her own power, can seek pleasure, stimulation, engagement, without placing herself at another’s mercy - ironically making it easier to go out every day and do exactly that as a member of her various societies.

As a Fairest settles in she tends to look for “her” people, and quite often they’re good at compartmentalizing this, wearing different hats and having different feelings about those hats without feeling fake or distressed about the bare fact of that. She’ll have her personal friends and family, like her housemates, her girlfriend, maybe her mortal family, her neighbors, and then folks like her Motley (which are like her personal friends and family, but In The Know), her fellow Fairest and the Freehold broadly, her work friends and fellow hobbyists. A Fairest who does, say, sex work, thinks of herself as a Sex Worker and understands herself in the context of that broader social group. It can be a lot! Many Lost barely have a handle on being a member of both the Freehold and a Court, and the way Fairest flit to and fro between many communities, slipping seamlessly from one role to another, can be exhausting to watch - but by doing so the Fairest also builds bonds between those communities, highlights their common needs and interests, draws them together over their similarities and strengths. Darklings and Wizened get a lot of the work on the ground done, but it’s often a Fairest in the role of whistleblower, figurehead, and champion all at once.

After all, this, too, is her doughnut.

Example Fairest - Clara Belltower, Spring Playmate

Clara Belltower is a mime.

Well, no, not exactly. Clara Belltower is a self-employed porn actress, erotic script writer, and director, whose primary thing is mimes, clowns, and more broadly circuses and performance venues. She came back from Arcadia eight years back fleeing life as her Keeper’s Stepford Wife, and ran face-first into the money issues that haunt the Lost in general. What started out as a practical choice in new career - and an attempt to find and express an identity not created for her by her abuser - became a creative passion that has stayed strong with Clara and propelled her to status in the Spring Court, which retains her keen eye for decoration, direction, and theatricality in service to its high rituals and revels. Clara’s livestreams and online presence are also a convenient avenue for the Freehold to launder its less legal revenue streams, which has endeared Spring’s “silent siren” to the Winter Court and cemented her as a mover and shaker.

Clara’s ambitions reach beyond erotic miming, as talented as she is at both creating and purveying such. She has her eyes on four different strip clubs in Freehold territory alone whose owners and operators need to fucking go, and she wants Winter’s help making it happen; further, she wants the Freehold to take over operation of those establishments for the benefit of the workers. Clara’s vision is popular in Spring and has its supporters in Summer too, but the Declining Seasons have been cool on the concept, citing a need to maintain subtlety and avoid entanglements with the mortal world that might invite the eye of, say, the IRS - or mire the Freehold in a protracted war with local police departments. Clara’s passion burns with a righteous simplicity, envisioning a Freehold that is active in improving the city around it - if the cops want to throw down, bring it on! Her influence over Winter means the Coldest Court cannot simply dismiss her desires, but neither is it willing to go to war. Something is going to have to give, soon.

This concludes the Fairest portion of the article. Some additional thoughts on Seeming follow.

Bombing Your Own Position - Choosing Your Seeming

So it’s been six articles and I’ve talked about the ways various Seemings can represent responses to the things which traumatize us; neurodivergences for which society abuses us, the machinery of capitalism, violence, prison, and more. But how do you go about choosing your character’s Seeming? The obvious choice is to make a character that puts a lot of yourself at the table; to seek out a Seeming that reflects your own traumas, your own issues, your own anxieties and struggles, and then grapple with them in this fictional context. But RPGs can be an emotionally challenging medium, and you may well not want to deal with your own bullshit during your magic trauma fairy game. That’s valid!

Now, the second obvious piece of advice is to think about your proposed character’s themes and traumas and then select a Seeming from there, but this can get complicated. Many Lost players feel as if they need two Seemings, and to those players I say: no the fuck you do not. But it is true that people are messy and do not fully resolve, that the broad spectrum of the world of sorrow and loss is not easy to fit into 6 discrete categories whose creation was often managed by, not to keep repeating this point, fucking Nazis. I have found in my experience that it can be helpful, when you’re torn between two Seemings or you have a character you’re sure is this Seeming even though they look like or could be that one, to ask yourself why the character is not the other option. Why is this alluring and sensual Darkling not a Fairest, what makes this brutal and violent Wizened not an Ogre? This question naturally leads to others about their abuse and their reaction to it, and can start your momentum for writing your concept out.

As an addition, while I’ve spoken of various Seemings as being well-equipped to represent specific traumas, they don’t own those traumas. Elementals are metaphorically autistic, but there’s nothing stopping you from running an autistic Fairest or an autistic Beast instead. Rather, those Seemings outlined as being “for” or “about” certain traumas are those whose selection will make those traumas thematically central, cause you to return to them as a topic over and over by virtue of being who and what they are. Real people have complicated problems which intersect with one another, spawning new problems that are more strange than the sum of their parts, and it’s both valid and interesting to write your Lost that way - just keep in mind that it’ll still be complicated at the table too.

Van Helsing Hate Crimes - Seeming Politics

White Wolf spent a lot of time waffling back and forth on whether or not Seemings represent distinct cultural and political identities in a given Freehold, drifting towards ‘yes’ when the writers thought about the way Blessings and Curses create consistent, measurable differences between Lost of various Seemings, and towards ‘no’ generally whenever they were asked to actually outline a Lost society such as a sample Freehold or Entitlement. Some Entitlements are locked to specific Seemings, often times with little thought as to why, while other times Seeming-based power blocs are alluded to as worldbuilding elements (such as in Lords of Summer) without much in the way of supporting detail. Why should these things happen, when, how, what does the buildup of this violent fracture in a Freehold society look like?

On the whole, I have taken the stance in these articles and in my own worldbuilding that some amount of fantastical prejudice exists amongst the Lost, but that the systems of oppression have not taken root. Maybe it’s idealistic of me to view the Lost as unwilling or unable to produce internally racist power structures that create an underclass for the benefit of an appointed elite, but in general I feel as if Freeholds are too small, each individual member too precious by simple dint of being a living being in a physical body, for this kind of evil to flourish. That said, you may have also noticed that I identified two Seemings - Darklings and Fairest - as explicitly self-uniting and in some senses self-governing on the basis of common traumas that they often cannot fully explain to outsiders, and indeed community with people that understand your bullshit without you having to say it aloud - that is, those who share a Seeming with you - can be invaluable to all Lost. Ultimately, however, I want to advise against looking at Seemings the way that, say, Vampire: the Requiem looks at Clans, and instead to treat them as reactions to trauma rather than a kind of alternate racial identity.

Next up: So You Need To Write A Fetch

#Changeling: The Lost #rpg #fairest #trauma #abuse #seemings #violence

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footballxposts · 3 years

Text

A Blue Forever - Mason Mount

Prompt: Mason proposes.

Warnings: Flufffyyyy af

Recommended listening: Fairytale of New York by Gavin James

A/N: I might do a p2 to this bc I have ideas that need to be released.

It was a dark and frosty Tuesday evening in December, exactly four days before Christmas. As you and Mason, your childhood best friend turned boyfriend, pulled into one of the staff-only bays of the car park situated next to the Millennium hotel, you sighed furiously. He refused to tell you the entirety of your journey where you’s had been headed, and now he was adamant on remaining silent, giving you no indication as to why you were now less than a five minute walk away from Stamford Bridge. Your head was rested against your fist, your elbow on the window ledge, holding your arm upright. Mason quickly took the keys out of his ignition, and flicked the overhead light in between you both on to illuminate your faces. Smiling across from you like a little kid, you turned your face to meet him, your expression still blank.

“Come on, don’t look at me like that.” He teased, taking your free hand into his own. “You’ll find out why we’re hear in a few minutes.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?” You whined and pouted at him, hoping your puppy dog eyes would win him over like they usually do. But it wasn’t working. Mason was terrible at keeping secrets, especially from you, but nothing was going to stop him this time.

“Because it’s supposed to be a surprise and if I tell you now it won’t will it?” he widened his eyes back at you, his little grin still in place.

“No, but you know I hate surprises, Mase. I always have done and always will. So pleeease can you just spare me the anxiety and possible embarrassment and just tell me now?!”

Ignoring your final plea, he rolled his eyes and mumbled a small ‘my god woman’ under his breath before looking down at the phone in his hands. An incoming call message was now plastered across the screen from a number you didn’t recognise, the vibrations and ringing causing the pit that had already formed in your stomach becoming even bigger.

“We’re all ready when you are, Mason.” a woman’s voice sounded, just audible enough for you to hear despite his phone not being on loudspeaker.

“Okay perfect thank you. See you in a minute!” Mason replied kindly. Ending the call, he hurriedly re-locked the device and turned the light above you both off. “Ready?” He asked nervously, his eyes twinkling ever so slightly.

“I mean I don’t know what for and no not really but okay, let’s go.” You replied with a huff, letting go of his hand and grabbing your handbag from down beside your feet. Mason stepped outside the car first, and you followed after as he closed his door, the crisp air hitting you both. As you closed your own, you met up with him around the back of the car and linked arms, making your way to the stadium entrance, blissfully unaware that the best moment of your entire life to date was patiently awaiting you inside.

Upon entering the building, you were greeted by a friendly-looking female, one who you could only assume was the lady Mason had been speaking with on the phone previous to your arrival. Mason engaged in conversation with her as you zoned out, eyes observing the empty grounds and racking your brain for an answer. Thought upon thought filled your mind, but you couldn’t pinpoint a solid explanation. Why on earth had he brought you to not only one of his main places of work but both your childhood club’s historic venue at 9pm in the evening when it wasn’t a match-day and it was so close to Christmas? Literally nothing made sense.

Before you could bite your cheeks or worry yourself sick anymore, Mason’s hand gently squeezed your own as he led the way to the Shed End. Stepping outside and making your way down the steps, you came to one of the middle rows and sat down beside him, not before looking down at him and giving him a stubborn ‘can you please tell me what is going on now?’ look.

“Mason Tony Mount, can you please enlighten me as to why we are sat here on a cold winters night when there’s no reason to be?” you looked at him, clutching at your scarp. “I’m scared now.” you informed him. His eyes looked at your own and he smiled, then diverted his attention back to the empty green pitch in front of you both.

“Do you remember when we were.. I don’t know maybe around ten years old? I think it was a few years after I had just started training properly for Chels at the academy. And we came here to watch the first team play together and after the match you told me you couldn’t wait to see me playing at this place someday, I think you referred to it as ‘with the ‘big boys’, but don’t quote me on it.” He smirked.

Placing your hands in your pockets and leaning back into the hard plastic seat, you took a deep breath before answering. “Yeah of course.. how could I forget? It seems like it was yesterday. And yes you’re right that’s exactly what I said though it pains me to admit it.” you responded, looking down at your lap with a small awkward smile. “What about it though?”

“Well, I told you I didn’t think I would ever be good enough, maybe for the first team back in Portsmouth but never for a club as big at Chelsea even though I was in the academy. But you had faith in me and reassured me even at that age. You said..”

“I said ‘You have to play here Mase. Chelsea’s not just our favourite team it’s our second home.’” Your smile widened at him as you took the words out of his mouth. “I told you.. I remember.” Mason smiled back as tears began forming in your eyes. “And now look at you.”

“And now look at me. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you Y/N. I owe so so much of it to you.” He said, standing up from his position and holding out his hand again. “Which is why I need you to follow me again because I want to say thank you.” Taking his hand into your own, you followed him down to the end of the stand, and made your way onto the pitch.

You went to question him again multiple times but each time he cut you off, not giving away anything. As you came to the end of the tunnel and walked towards the centre of the field, the frosty green grass now with a trail of footprints on it.

“Mason what on earth is going on?” You asked him, terrified as to what was about to happen.

“I’ll tell you in two minutes I promise, but first watch this.” He said, pointing to one of the large screens as the floodlights had gone off. You jumped a little but the little moment of being slightly petrified was about to be so worth it. Now playing was a video compiled with memories of you and Mason growing up to now. You laughed and sobbed as you looked back on all your special moments with such fondness and gratitude. Each part of the video had a message appearing on the screen, with Mason telling you all the things he loved about you and how he couldn’t wait to create so many more memories with you like all the ones you had shared over the years. The final message to appear on the screen was a question. It read ‘you helped make one of my dreams come true. will you please help me make another come true by saying say yes?’

Confused and in shock, you gasped and put your hand up to your mouth, not realising Mason had moved behind you whilst you were reminiscing and distracted. Turning around as only some of the lights came back on, you saw Mason down on one knee and started bawling. He was crying himself, but also unable to contain his smile.

“Y/F/N, You have been my best friend and my girlfriend for the longest time ever now, and I absolutely adore you. I don’t think that’s ever going to change. I don’t want it to because loving you to ends of this earth in the greatest privilege I’ve ever been given. Please will you do me the honours of marrying me and being my wife?” He asked, popping the all important question.

“Oh my god, Mase.” You sniffled. “Yes, of course.” You said as he stood up again, kissing you as his body engulfed you in a hug. Just as you broke apart and he placed the most beautifully cut ring you had ever seen on your finger, it started snowing. The snowflakes dancing around you both, tickling your skin. Smiling as your foreheads rested against each other, music started playing and fireworks began shooting up from the roof of the stadium. He really had pulled out all of the stops.

“Ready for one last surprise?” He asked.

“More? Mase my heart, I don’t think I can take it.” You giggled at him.

“I promise you it’s just one more thing and it’s literally only something small.” He responded.

“Okay.” You said making your way down the tunnel after him. You stopped outside the home dressing room. Upon entering, you noticed all the other players shirts had been taken off their usual hanging spots, including Mason’s, which had been replaced by one in only his spot. On the back of a new home jersey was ‘Mrs. Mount 19’.

“Oh wow, nice touch.” You teased him, nudging his side with your elbow as you walked over towards it. Your old jerseys at home only ever had Mason’s surname on the back of them.

“What can I say? You’re not just any blue forever, you’re my blue forever.” He winked.

Best early Christmas present you had ever got from your best friend. Ever.

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